


You're the reason I love losing sleep

by phanjessmagoria



Series: Sometimes I wish for falling [1]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, M/M, Rimming, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-07 04:29:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 36,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5443355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phanjessmagoria/pseuds/phanjessmagoria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes Ashton years to catch on that all the best things in his life tend to happen with Calum, at night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _You said you saw it coming, but you didn't see nothing_

It was overkill, but it was still funny.

That was Calum in a nutshell—always joking, always looking for ways to make his bandmates laugh (because they could say that now, now that Ashton had agreed to officially join the group: _Bandmates_ ).

He'd dropped to one knee and grasped Ashton's left hand in both of his own, looking up at him and feigning desperation. “Ashton...” he trailed off, wanting to make sure that he got his last name right; he half turned back to Michael and said, more to him than to the guy whose hand he was clinging to, “Ir...win?”

Michael laughed and nodded. “Irwin.”

Calum grinned and turned back around. “Ashton Irwin. Would you do me—nay, _us_ —the honor of being our drummer?” Then, as though Ashton could do anything but reply to the affirmative, Calum tacked on a “Please?”

Michael and Luke watched the scene unfold, giggling as Ashton tried in vain to gently tug his hand away before just laughing as well. “Yeah, all right.”

–

Sometimes it still didn't seem real—not even just that they were on tour with One Direction, but that they were a band at all. The four of them were just kids, three of whom never finished high school in order to pursue doing what they really loved instead of graduating. It hadn't been easy, and not a day went by when each of them didn't reflect for a moment just how lucky, how grateful, they were.

In fact, the only time that Ashton hated being on tour was when Calum took his clothes without asking. It was just one of those things that didn't bother him at first, but as it kept happening more often, so the chip on his shoulder grew. The borrowing— _stealing_ —didn't happen often, but when it did, it was usually in the morning, while Ashton was in the shower. He'd come out, hair dripping onto his bare shoulders, hips shrouded in a towel, to find Calum had shrugged on the shirt that he'd chosen for the day. “Dude,” he'd say, voice just edging on whiny so Calum would know he was actually kind of pissed. The first time it happened he sounded legitimately annoyed, but Calum just grinned at him, tugged on the hem of the shirt, and Ashton acquiesced, because really: Who could say no to that face?

This, though, was the seventh time it had happened, and Ashton wasn't nearly as amused. He was resigned to it—even his “Dude” sounded more like an “All right, just wear it.”

Calum met Ashton's eyes and smiled wide, as the routine usually went. Ashton dressed himself in silence, choosing another shirt and almost expecting Calum to ask to switch, just because he liked the new one better—more like because inconveniencing Ashton pleased him. Calum watched him, smirking—clearly he knew how frustrated this made Ashton; clearly that was the reason he kept doing it.

After the concert that night, as they stood leaning against one another in the elevator heading back up to their hotel rooms, Ashton almost got up the nerve to ask Calum why he did it. He suspected, quite strongly, that it was only to irritate him—just for a bit of fun on tour, when most of their day was strictly planned and structured. Each of them made their way clumsily out of the elevator, heading down the hall, stumbling against each other, laughing, finally splitting into pairs to disappear into their respective rooms. Calum was out of Ashton's shirt before the door even shut all the way, tossing it onto the small pile of clothes beside the closet doors, left ajar from earlier.

“Hey,” Ashton said, frowning as Calum fell facedown onto his bed. Calum turned so his cheek was resting on the fluffy comforter, one eye closed. “Hmm?” he intoned.

“That's not where that goes,” Ashton said, pointing at the shirt but stopping himself just short of crossing his arms like he knew his mother would do to him in the same situation. He put his hands on his hips instead, fully aware of how ridiculous he looked and eternally grateful that Michael and Luke weren't also in the room.

Calum, as Ashton knew he would, laughed. “Ok, _Mom_ ,” he said, not moving other than to flip onto his back and try to kick his shoes off without untying them. Ashton watched him struggle for a moment, knowing that the shirt would remain exactly where it was until the next morning, when both of them were rushing to leave the hotel.

Calum had let his legs flop back down onto the bed, shoes still firmly in place. Ashton snickered and stepped closer to him. “Want some help?” The boy on the bed perked up immediately.

“Yeah!” He lifted one leg and rested the sole of his shoe square on Ashton's chest, looking up at him expectantly.

“Knock it off,” Ashton said, off-handedly, because he was already undoing the laces of Calum's shoes. The first one fell to the carpet with a faint _thud_ as he tossed it down. Without waiting for Calum to take the opportunity to kick him in the face as he offered his other foot, Ashton switched legs and undid his other shoe, dropping it haphazardly to the floor beside the other one.

“Thanks,” Calum mumbled, eyes still closed. Ashton stepped away and Calum sat up to peer over the edge of the bed. “Oh, Ashton. That's not where those go.” He pointed to his shoes, one upright and the other on its side, laces tangled. He put his hands on his hips, mocking Ashton, who chuckled his approval of the joke but otherwise ignored Calum, instead continuing over to his bed. He pulled his suitcase onto the bedsheets and opened it, digging through his clothes to find a pair of sweats to wear to sleep. After removing what seemed like half the contents of the bag, he found a pair of grey pants, and set them aside before propping the bag open to shove all his clothes back in.

“Can I wear those?” Calum asked, from right in front of Ashton, across the bed. Ashton jumped, startled—he hadn't even noticed Calum get up, much less walk over to his bed. Ashton let out a low breath, then stopped putting his belongings away.

“I was going to wear them,” Ashton replied, almost like he was explaining it to a child; if he didn't already know better, he would say that Calum just didn't understand the concept of personal property. He held off on re-packing his things; already anticipating Calum's next question.

“Do you have another pair I can borrow, then?”

Ashton would have felt goddamn vindicated if he wasn't goddamn perplexed.

“I do, but why don't you want to wear your own clothes? I know you've got stuff to wear too, Calum.” There was an edge to his voice that wasn't normally ever present, and it wasn't like he was even angry—he was just confused and a little annoyed that Calum was now moving on to borrowing his sleep clothes. Ashton watched him, one hand on the grey sweatpants protectively, like Calum would try to take them by force if he didn't hand over another pair, and soon.

Calum, though, instead of giving a real answer just shrugged one shoulder, not meeting Ashton's eyes. He spoke after a moment. “I just kind of miss home,” he admitted. “And,” he continued, then stopped and cleared his throat. He finally met Ashton's eyes, expression expectant, like what he'd already said was enough of an explanation to get Ashton to give him something to wear to bed.

“And?” Ashton prompted, but his voice was softer this time.

“And—it makes sense in my head,” Calum said, but Ashton still wanted a real answer, because that wasn't Calum's reason, it was just his excuse. He nodded for Calum to keep talking.

“It just makes me feel like home isn't so far away, all right?”

This hung in the air between them for a few moments, long enough that Ashton's only response, at first, was to pick up the grey sweats and hand them over just so that they wouldn't be standing there in awkward silence any longer.

Calum snatched them from his hand. “Thanks,” he turned away before Ashton could change his mind and shuffled away, socked feed padding quietly on the not-so-plush carpet of their hotel room, until he was back by his own bed. He shimmied out of his jeans, then stepped into Ash's sweatpants, glancing back over his shoulder as he did, like he could feel Ashton watching him.

And Ashton _was_ watching him, though when Cal looked at him, his gaze shot down to his bag, and he began digging through it again to find another pair of sweats to wear to bed. He found them after another few seconds of searching, this pair dark blue, stuffed all the way down at the bottom. By the time he'd managed to extricate them (along with pretty much all the rest of the shit in his bag), Calum was turning down the covers of his bed, the whole while surreptitiously glancing at Ashton every few seconds. Ashton caught him a couple times, because he was doing the same thing. He, for some reason that he couldn't quite put his finger on yet, turned his back to Calum while he changed out of his jeans.

“You mind?” Calum asked. Ashton looked up from putting his things away in his suitcase to find him across the room, finger hovering over the light switch. He shook his head to show it was fine. “Go ahead.”

Calum switched the lights off and returned to his bed, crawling under the covers, letting an unbidden sigh of comfort escape his lips. Ashton chuckled a little to himself—he knew that feeling well, the feeling of crawling into a soft, cool bed after a long day or even just an energetic, exhausting show. He put his suitcase off to the side and slid into his own bed, managing to internalize his own sigh of relief, but barely.

The pair of them settled down right away to sleep. Ashton tugged his bedcovers up over his head so he wouldn't be tempted to look at Calum again, but mostly so he wouldn't notice if Calum was looking at him. He felt very strongly that he probably was. They'd shared silences before, but not one as uncomfortable as the one that had just passed.

It wasn't such a foreign concept, he supposed, that he reminded Calum of home. That made sense—each of the boys reminded Ashton of home in different ways. Michael, the first one of the band he'd really spoken to, brought him back to when they were just kids messing around with instruments. Luke, the youngest and smallest of the four of them, made Ashton think of his real siblings that still lived at home in Australia. And Calum...his best friend. Reflecting on it made where Calum was coming from much clearer to Ashton.

Honestly, he was surprised it had taken him this long to ask, much less to put two and two together to figure out the reason why Calum felt more comfortable in Ashton's things than his own. It was more than just a sense of craving familiarity, or at least Ashton felt like it was. Being so far from home was a huge step for all of them—Calum wanted security.

Ashton was more than a little flattered that he could provide that for him.

–

“Hiii! We're in Mexico.” Calum studied himself for a second in the camera on his phone. “I have bed hair, and this is Michael.” The two thoughts were completely incongruent, but Calum strung them together without hesitation. He included a shot of Michael, overlaid with a breathy moan of “He's so pretty.” _Awesome_.

Next, it was Ashton's turn. “Oy, Ash,” Calum turned to him, phone ready to take another clip. He held record and gave Ashton the thumbs up to say something. Ashton smiled, bunched up his shoulders and trilled, “Hi Calum!”

Calum filmed himself, gleefully replying, “Hi Ashton!” The look of adoration in his eyes was intentional, played up on purpose, and completely impossible to miss.

He turned the camera back on Ashton, who this time curled some of his hair around his finger and tried (read: failed) to play coy. “Hi, Calum.”

“What the hell,” Luke asked from the couch behind Calum. He took a quick clip of Luke looking disturbed and disgusted, then recorded himself again, nearly shouting this time. “Hi Ashton!”

Then, the coup-de-grace: Ashton, toying with the front of his shirt and giggling, high-pitched, “Hi Calum!”

Perfect. It was a masterpiece.

–

“You guys are so fucking weird,” Michael mumbled, still swiping at his phone.

Calum was too busy uploading the video to reply right away, so Ashton, who was still grinning, looked over at Michael. “Why?”

“Just are,” Michael replied.

“So what?” Calum said, rolling his eyes and tucking his phone away into his pocket—likes and comments had already started rolling in and it was a little overwhelming to see how quickly the numbers rose from single to triple digits and then even further on.

“Nothing,” Michael said, promptly standing up, crossing the room, and sitting on the couch, slinging one leg over Luke's lap for good measure. Luke tried in vain to push Michael away, but he resisted and commented further. “It's cute.”

“Cute?” Ashton echoed, then huffed a laugh. “Calum, he thinks we're cute.”

“No,” Michael said, interrupting before Calum could respond to Ashton. “I think the weird shit you do together is cute. There's a difference.”

“How is that different?” Calum asked, looking over at Ashton—he wanted to gauge his reaction to Michael's explanation more than he wanted to actually hear what Michael had to say.

“I'm not into either of you,” Michael explained, and Luke snickered, rolling his eyes and trying again to at least remove Michael's leg from his person. It still didn't work. Michael continued, “But whatever you two have going on, I think it's adorable.” He gestured vaguely first at Calum, then at Ashton. 

“We have nothing going on!” Calum said, a little too defensively. He knew he was protesting too much, so he just crossed his arms, dialing it back a bit. “We're _friends_. Best friends.”

“Like you and Luke,” Ashton chimed in. “And you two do arguably weirder shit than us.” He held out his hand to indicate the two of them. Luke lifted Michael's leg and tried to reposition it somewhere that wasn't his lap, but Michael just lifted his other leg and scooched forward so he was laying across Luke's thighs. “Case in point, Michael.”

“If I wanted to get into Luke's pants, I'd just tell him,” Michael said, speaking over Ashton. “Not take Instagram videos of us flirting to show everyone how much we like each other.” He looked up at Luke. “So anyway, Luke, I've been meaning to tell you—”

“Shut up,” Luke said, laughing a little.

“I mean, I really don't think anything that just happened can be considered flirting,” Calum said, rather quickly. “So.”

Michael lifted his head from the couch to look at Calum. “Defensive much?” He snickered.

“Cal, don't listen to him,” Luke said. “Mikey's just jealous that you like Ashton more than him.”

“I am not!” Michael sat up, sitting straight on the couch; Luke used this as an opportunity to move away from him lest Michael use him as a piece of furniture again.

“They always want to room together, Calum always wears Ash's clothes—I was just trying to let them know that when they finally get over themselves and declare their undying love for one another, I'd be _completely supportive_.” Michael looked over at Calum and Ashton. “I am completely supportive of your gay love affair. Pinky promise.” He held out his hand, pinky finger extended, but neither Calum nor Ashton moved to hook their finger with his. Michael scoffed. “Psh, whatever.” He laid across Luke's lap again, resulting in an annoyed sigh from Luke.

Ashton was amused by the whole thing, honestly—he just chuckled to himself and pulled up Calum's Instagram, turning the volume down so he could watch the video and not alert Michael to the fact that he was doing it. It was just a funny thing between friends—not _flirting_. Michael was so impish sometimes.

Calum, who was close enough to Ashton to hear the video, was actually a little embarrassed that he was looking at it. It wasn't like he _did_ like Ashton—that really, seriously, totally wasn't the case. But Michael was right: he did wear Ashton's clothes fairly often and always requested to stay with Ashton when they were forced to share hotel rooms. It wasn't anything other than their strong friendship that made him want to do these things, and Calum firmly believed that was true. What else could it be? He and Ashton had grown close since they played that first show together and he'd joined the band—that's all it was. They were best friends: Their personalities just meshed.

Ashton had since navigated away from the video, but Calum was still watching him. He couldn't tell what Ash was doing on his phone, but whenever he paused to look at something and the beginnings of a smile twitched at the corner of his lips, Calum found himself smiling a little too. After a few minutes, Ashton put his phone away and went to the bathroom; Calum watched him go, then turned back—realizing too late that Michael had been watching him the whole time. He was smirking, like he knew something Ashton didn't—something, even, that Calum didn't.

–

The segment was called “Shazamily Feud,” which Ashton thought might not quite appeal to the masses, but who was he to argue? It was a silly segment for a show, not something that would be up for an Emmy. Or...whatever awards they gave out for interviews. He settled into the back of the couch between Calum and Michael, glad he had sunglasses on—they could help to hide his displeasure that the couch was so small. Yes, ok—they all sat extraordinarily close together anyway, but sometimes it was nice to be given the choice. Long legs and small couches didn't mix.

It was a silly segment, so of course the questions were silly as well, but that didn't stop the playful competitiveness the four of them shared from rearing its head. They would laugh on camera—but afterward whoever won would gloat for at least a day and a half.

The first three questions were innocuous enough, Michael sitting pretty in first place when the fourth question was asked: “Who do you ship the most?” The host then clarified, like the four bandmates sitting on the couch didn't understand what was _really_ being asked here, “But the fun thing is, it's between you guys, you know how you've got your names?” Of course they knew.

This wasn't a sore subject or anything—it was all in good fun and they played it up half the time for the fans, because all things considered, sometimes they did shit that was _pretty_ gay—or, like, homoerotic. Each of them gave their answers.

Luke spoke first. “I reckon they said Muke.”

Michael (talk about adding fuel to the fire) threw his arm immediately around Luke's shoulders and said, “I'm gonna stick with—I'll go Muke as well.” He turned to Ashton and Calum. “You should probably go Cashton.”

“No, 'cause you know no one wants that. No one likes Cashton,” Calum said, grinning at Ashton from behind his microphone. “I'm gonna believe in myself and go Cake.” The audience, and even the hosts, seemed amused at this choice. “It's perfect,” he continued. “The marketing's good.”

Ashton cast his vote for Malum, and the hosts announced the actual winners: Cake, then Muke, then Malum. Ashton, whose feelings were not actually hurt but had to say something, piped up. “Wow, I'm not even in any of them.”

It was a throwaway comment, just to be funny. Michael ended up winning the game because of course he did, and they left the studio shortly after to head to their next interview.

By the time they were finished for the day, heading back to the hotel from the restaurant they'd grabbed food from, they'd all but forgotten the game—well, the actual _questions_ , at least. Michael was still going on about his “big win,” as he called it, though he seemed to have misplaced the trophy.

“No one likes a show-off, Michael,” Ashton admonished him, snickering from the backseat of the SUV.

“Clearly our fans do, because I won, Ashton,” he turned in his seat to grin at him.

“That doesn't even make any sense, _Michael_ ,” Ashton countered, then laughed—arguing, even when it wasn't real, wasn't his style.

They were rushed into the hotel by security, giving as much time to the fans as they could and snapping a few pictures before they were in the lobby, checking in. “You're going to have to pair off,” was all that had to be said before Michael grabbed Luke's arm and tugged him closer.

“Mine,” he nearly shouted, turning a few heads of hotel guests who _didn't_ know who they were. “I won, so I get to pick, and I pick Luke.”

“What, one trophy wasn't enough?” Luke quipped, snickering. He had spoken at the same time as Calum, who said, “Even though he should be rooming with me, since the fans like Cake the most.”

“You are delusional,” Michael replied, not letting go of Luke's arm even as he tried to halfheartedly tug it out of Michael's grasp. “You two—” here, he pointed at Calum and Ashton “—need to spend some time together and rekindle the Cashton flame. It's imperative.”

Ashton was shaking his head, smiling, sunglasses hiding the rolling of his eyes. “If I didn't know better, I'd say _you_ ship Cashton.”

“Cashton is _real_ , Irwin,” Michael retorted, finally letting go of Luke's arm so they could walk to the elevator. “I'm looking at it right now.”

The four of them split into two pairs, heading into their own bedrooms with two double beds in each. As soon as the door closed behind Michael, he ran and leapt toward the nearest bed. Luke only rolled his eyes and chuckled quietly at the ceiling, taking the other bed. “You're such a child.”

“Am not,” Michael said, rolling onto his back, clutching one of the pillows to his chest and looking at Luke upside-down.

Next door, Ashton deposited his suitcase on one of the beds, but glanced at Calum before he took his hand off it. “Can I have this one?”

Calum had already walked past him, flopping onto the other bed. He lifted his head and looked at Ashton. “Yeah, sure. 'Course.” He shrugged, then moved onto his side and reached for the remote. “I'll find something to watch.”

Ashton was already halfway to the bathroom, tossing his shirt back onto the white comforter of his bed. “No porn.” He flicked the bathroom light on and grinned at Calum before closing the door behind him.

“No fun!” Calum called after him, chuckling to himself as he turned on the TV set and flipped through the channels. Ashton took a quick shower, exiting the bathroom with the plush towel wrapped around his waist. He gave the television a cursory glance, almost afraid to look—but Calum had settled on a football game. Ashton nodded his approval, even though Calum didn't notice, and opened his bag, pulling out a pair of sweatpants. He pulled them on, trying to keep the towel wrapped around his waist as he tugged them up.

“I've already seen it anyway,” Calum commented, not even looking away from the TV.

“Doesn't mean I want to give you a front-row seat,” Ashton said, returning to the bathroom to hang up the wet towel.

“Seen one, seen 'em all,” Calum said, looking over with a smug smile on his face.

“But mine's still your favorite,” Ashton said, almost giggling at the ridiculous discourse they were having, and turned the bathroom light off. He sidled over to his bed, putting his suitcase on the floor and crawling into the middle. It was too early to sleep, so wasting time watching football games seemed a damn good pastime.

–

“Hey. Ash. You awake?”

It was dark in the hotel room, so when Calum spoke for the third time since they'd decided on lights out twenty minutes ago, he didn't bother trying to hide his smile. Calum tended to be more hyper than the rest of them late at night—he usually conked out late, in the wee hours of the morning, but it was barely past midnight and they had a flight to catch the next morning.

So far, the topics of conversation had been dogs. That was it. Dogs, twice: First, about getting another tour dog, and second, about portmanteau breed names. So when Calum spoke for a third time, Ashton was expecting to be caught up in a debate about whether English Bulldogs were better than French Bulldogs, or something. (They weren't, though he was certain that Calum's stance would be that they were equally perfect.)

He bunched his pillow up further in his arms, fluffing it as best he could without really lifting his head to look over at the boy in the other bed. “Yes, Calum.” He should have known better to respond; enough time had passed that he could have reasonably fallen asleep and wouldn't have to comment on whatever topic of dog-related conversation Calum had thought up now.

“Were you really pissed earlier?”

Ashton wasn't sure what to make of this—mostly because he couldn't remember being pissed about anything recently. He pushed his face into his pillow before propping himself up on his elbow. “What?”

“On that Family Feud thing. After I said no one wanted Cashton, and you were all, 'I'm not in any.'” Calum's voice was quiet, like he was going to make Ashton pissed all over again just by bringing it up.

“Oh!” Ashton laughed a little, laying back down. “No. What, you thought I was serious?”

Calum had, so he didn't speak right away. “No. Duh, I was kidding.”

That was bullshit, Ashton knew—he could see right through Calum. “Aww, Cal,” he said, tone teasing him. “You really thought you hurt my feelings.”

“I did not,” Calum insisted, glad it was dark because his cheeks definitely felt warmer than normal. He hadn't thought he'd _hurt Ashton's feelings_ , it was just that the juxtaposition of what he'd said and Ashton's dispirited comment made him feel like something was up. “I just wanted to make sure, you know, that _you know_ that I was kidding. About that and this.”

Ashton half hid his face in his pillow. It would be so easy to just go with it, let it go, and get to sleep. But Calum was never this vocal, about anything usually, and Ashton thought maybe Calum was the one who needed to talk about it. “So why'd you say it, then?”

Calum shrugged beneath the sheets. “Seemed like it'd get a laugh.”

“It did,” Ashton conceded.

“Yeah, but after you weren't in any of them, it seemed kind of shitty to say.” Ashton didn't say anything for a moment, and his silence caused Calum to sit up, feet dangling over the side of the bed, toes brushing the carpet.

Ashton bit his lip—where was all of this coming from? “You didn't know. And also, it doesn't matter. It's not like Muke or Cake are real. And Cashton _obviously_ isn't real, so.” He laughed.

But Calum didn't. He stood up from the bed.

Ashton cleared his throat. “Cal?”

“I just felt kind of shitty,” Calum began, and Ashton could tell he didn't _want_ to be saying any of this but he felt compelled to explain it to Ashton, to make him understand, “because I wouldn't—have said it if I'd known.”

Ashton took a deep breath; this clearly wasn't what Calum had begun that sentence intending to say. “But you didn't know, so it's fine.”

As Calum crossed the short distance between the beds, Ashton moved further toward the middle to give Calum room to sit. He wasn't sure why he felt so sure that Calum was going to sit on the bed with him, but when he did, Ashton felt himself get a little bit anxious. Which was utterly ridiculous, because he and Calum were best friends and it wasn't like they'd never _sat close together_ before—hell, just look at the Shazam thing Calum seemed to have misread completely.

“Yeah, but—” Calum began.

“Calum,” Ashton said. “I am honestly, truthfully, not upset about it. It was all a joke.” He laughed a little. “I mean, sure, it sucks not to be included, but—” 

“Yeah, but. I wanted you to know that...it's not _actually_ like no one wants Cashton.” He smiled a little when Ashton huffed a short laugh. “I mean, our marketing's pretty on point, too.” At this, Ashton laughed a little more openly.

“I guess it isn't, though,” he said. “No one voted for us.”

“Damn. That's a good point,” Calum said and, to Ashton's surprise, shifted a little further onto the bed so that he was reclining on it beside Ashton, though on top of the sheets and blanket. “We need to reevaluate our branding.”

Ashton laughed, shaking his head. “ _Branding_. Yeah, if by reevaluate you mean 'have any at all.'” He turned to look at Calum, the laugh not quite gone yet.

Calum's lips were on his before he even registered that Calum had moved closer. It wasn't an entirely accurate kiss: Calum had missed and his lips were only about half on Ashton's, and a little too high up—Calum's nose had bumped into his cheek. But there was a sudden burst of emotions in the pit of his stomach anyway: primarily confusion, but contentment, pleasure, and relief were definitely among them too. He pulled away, Calum's eyes wide in the darkness of the room, like he expected to be pushed away and banished to the other bed. Ashton could barely see him in the dark, his outline fuzzy and blending in with the curtained windows and wallpaper visible behind him.

“...Ok,” Ashton finally said.

“I just...wanted to do that,” Calum said, and Ashton thought, _Yeah, obviously_.

“Ok,” Ashton repeated, looking from Calum's face to literally anywhere else in the room. He settled on the dark blob that he knew was really chair in the corner beside the lamp.

“Sorry,” Calum offered, the fingers of his right hand working against the fabric of the sheets beside his leg.

“Ok,” Ashton said for a third time, still not looking back at Calum. “I mean, when I said that I wasn't upset, I meant it.”

“Ok,” Calum echoed, then immediately regretted it, because what, was this The Fault In Our Stars or something? Fuck. He hurried to explain himself. “I know you weren't upset. Now I know, I mean. It just felt like the right thing.”

Ashton waited a moment. “Kissing me did.” It was a question phrased as a statement.

Calum nodded and Ashton almost missed it in the near darkness; he caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and still, resisted looking back at Calum, a touch apprehensive that if he did, it might make for another kiss. Calum's next words only reinforced his theory: “I've kind of felt like doing it for a while.”

Ashton, despite his best efforts, tried not to recall how he felt a pull of genuine interest when Calum's lips were on his. He had never, in the years they'd known each other, thought of his bandmates as more than friends, except for when it felt like they'd become brothers. They were family to each other, and when you kiss someone in your family, you _definitely_ should not feel how Ashton felt.

Not that he would admit he felt anything. He was going to tell Calum it was fine, it wouldn't make anything awkward, and ignore completely the facts that he wasn't put off by the kiss at all and that he wouldn't initiate another one but he wouldn't be opposed if Calum did. It was a little strange to kiss another guy, especially one whom Ashton was so close to...but, Ashton thought, that may have been the reason that he wasn't completely closed off to it. Calum was the closest thing he had to home away from Sydney (and probably vice versa considering that Calum still wore Ashton's clothes regularly and without permission). He felt more at ease right now, in maybe the most awkward situation of his life, than he would have with anyone else, just because it was Calum, and to him, Calum was familiarity, comfort. He was security.

His best friend had just admitted to wanting to kiss him for “a while,” and Ashton had no idea what to do.

He finally turned back to Calum, whose eyes landed on his lips. Quickly, as though it never happened, Calum lifted his eyes to Ashton's, holding his gaze. “I won't do it again,” he said, because Ashton hadn't made any indication that he wanted to speak.

“No, it's...I don't mind.” He swallowed, probably audibly—he felt like Calum could hear it, could probably even hear the beat of his heart and his stupid thoughts whirring through his head. “I've never thought about it—you—but it was...” Calum watched him expectantly. “Nice.”

Calum took it with no outward reaction; his face remained impassive if not a little eager. “'Nice' is better than 'Get the fuck off my bed,' I guess.” He smiled a little; Ashton could tell because the apples of Calum's cheeks rounded, barely visible in the darkness. “I'll take it.”

There was a moment of silence between them, but it was warm, not empty like it could have been if things got weird. “Let's get some sleep,” Ashton finally said.

Calum hummed in assent and shifted a bit, but Ashton spoke again before he could. “Want to stay here?” Calum stopped and looked over his shoulder at Ashton. “Really?”

In lieu of actually answering _that_ question, he changed the subject. “You owe me a better one anyway, so.” Calum wasn't 100% on what he meant exactly until he continued, “Almost took my eye out with that nose the first time.”

Calum grinned again; he turned back to Ashton and laid down in one movement. “Hey,” he said. _Smooth_.

“Oh my god, do not do that,” Ashton said, laughing. “That has to be the worst move in the universe.”

“What move?” Calum asked, feigning innocence.

“You know very well what move, Hood. None of that.” Now that Calum was lying next to him, face to face, close enough that he could smell his fucking toothpaste, for Christ's sake, Ashton was losing his nerve.

“So I should just kiss you again, then,” Calum said; he was enjoying making Ashton uncomfortable.

“If you're going to do it then just do it. Don't...beat around the bush.”

“Beat's kind of our thing, though. Rhythm section life,” Calum laughed quietly, moving to rest his head on the same pillow Ashton was using.

“Oh my god,” Ashton said, groaning.

“Kinda makes sense, in that way,” Calum said, voice low, quiet; and closed the distance between them again. This time, he managed not to miss Ashton's mouth, and his nose only gently brushed against Ashton's for a brief moment as he pulled away. “Better?”

Ashton had held his breath as he'd kissed Calum back, but exhaled after his question. “Yeah.”

“'Night, then,” Calum whispered, satisfied. As an afterthought, he added, “And we really should get another tour dog.”

“ _Goodnight_ , Calum,” Ashton said, sounding more amused than he wanted to, settling onto his back.

“'Night,” he said again, rolling onto his side so the last thing he'd see, even in the darkness of the room, was Ash.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Confessedly, this is the first time I've loved you; and god I mean it, god I mean it, I hope that I mean it_

What woke Ashton the next morning was the tingling in his arm. He remembered Calum kissing him, and he remembered that he'd allowed it to happen a second time, but he didn't remember falling asleep with one arm underneath Calum, nor Calum's forehead resting on his shoulder. Ashton felt his heartbeat quicken; he couldn't get out of bed without waking Calum up, and he _really_ didn't want to have to talk about the night before and if it meant anything—because it totally didn't, or at least that was what he was telling himself.

Because, he was telling himself, things looked a bit different in the daylight, when he could actually see the angle of Calum's jawline up close, the slant of his hair falling over his forehead, the slight parting of his lips as he breathed deeply in his sleep. Everything—literally, figuratively, just _everything_ —was clearer now that the sun was up. Ashton wasn't quite sure if he was ready to look at Calum as anything other than his best friend, even though last night _totally did happen_.

Calum shifted just a tiny bit, and Ashton could feel the bridge of his nose on his bicep, along with the corner of his lips— _fuck_ , he could even feel Calum's eyelashes tickling his skin. This was—it was just way too much, way too fast. It had seemed obvious to Ashton that if he was ever going to fuck around with another guy, he'd want it to be someone he trusted (for a multitude of reasons including but not limited to keeping it _quiet_ and not mocking him when he had no idea what to do with a dick that wasn't his own), but now that it had happened—or at least _begun_ to happen—Ashton was seriously doubting his commitment to non-anonymous same-sex experimentation.

He shifted a little away from Calum. Luckily, it didn't wake him up. Now that he had a bit of room to see exactly how he was positioned, he tried to slide his arm beneath the pillow and maneuver it away from Calum's sleeping form. Ashton felt pretty damn good about himself when he managed to get out of bed without waking Calum. He'd made it halfway to the bathroom when he heard Calum's voice, thick with sleep. “Hey.”

Ashton froze, stuck on the spot like he had a gun trained on him. He turned, still trying to be silent even though Calum was obviously awake and looking right at him. He didn't look like he wanted to talk about last night either, but maybe that was because he was yawning and rubbing one eye with his hand. Ashton finally spoke. “Hey.”

“Sleep good?” Calum asked, sitting up a little, a small smile on his lips. His hair was flat on the side where he'd been resting on Ashton's arm.

“Uh...yeah.” Ashton nodded. “You?”

“Yeah,” Calum said. “You're, like, really warm.” He laughed and tugged the sheets up over his chest, pulling up the blanket too, trying to retain some of the warmth now that Ashton had vacated his slice of the bed next to Calum.

This was the kind of thing any of them could say to the other without it being weird, as long as the circumstances _weren't_...whatever the previous night had made them.

“Sorry,” Ashton finally managed. “I had to pee.”

Calum didn't look perturbed at all. He just nodded and settled back down into the bed. “'S cool. We prob'ly have to get up soon anyway.” He rubbed his eye again, then kicked the covers off of himself and stood up, back to Ashton. He stretched, rising up onto his tiptoes, arms reaching toward the ceiling. Ashton watched him. He was silhouetted against the sun shining in through the curtains.

“About last night,” he blurted out, and Calum abruptly stopped, dropping back down, his feet flat on the floor. Ashton regretted it as soon as Calum turned back to look at him. He hadn't wanted to talk about last night; he hadn't even wanted to acknowledge that it had happened, unless Calum had brought it up, but now _Ashton_ had brought it up and he wasn't even clear on what he wanted to say about it.

“Ok,” Calum said.

Ashton expected him to say more, but when he stayed silent, waiting to hear exactly _what_ about last night, Ashton swallowed thickly. He wasn't sure what to say now, now that Calum's eyes were on him and all he could think about were Calum's lips on his.

Because Ashton—even after sleeping on it, even with a completely clear head—still wasn't freaked out by the kisses they'd shared, and that was the thing that _was_ freaking him out. Calum was his best friend, practically his _brother_. He shouldn't have let the night before happen in the first place, much less want it to happen a second time.

“We shouldn't do that again,” he said, just as suddenly, stumbling over the words.

Calum didn't look upset, which Ashton was glad for, nor did he look like he expected it, which Ashton wasn't quite so sure about being a good thing.

“Ok,” Calum repeated himself. “Mind if I—?” He pointed at the bathroom. Ashton, who would probably have agreed to anything Calum suggested as long as it ended up with a closed door between them, nodded. “Yeah.”

“You sure?” Calum smirked. “I thought you had to pee.”

Ashton paused for a second. “Right.” He shook his head, gestured for Calum to go in first. “No, go ahead.”

Calum smirked a little, then rounded the foot of the bed and disappeared into the bathroom. Ashton heard water running, and then the shower turn on, so at least that would buy him a few minutes to panic or to work through this. Which one it would end up being remained to be seen. He was—well, he'd want to say he was stupid but he didn't feel like that was entirely accurate. The best descriptor, at least right now, was scared. Terrified, actually. Calum was terse on a good day, so Ashton had no real way of knowing if he was upset or mad or just didn't give a shit that Ashton kissed him and then changed his mind about it less than twelve hours later, even though there really hadn't even been anything for Ashton to change his mind _about_. Calum seemed eerily calm, and Ashton didn't know how to react to Calum's lack of a reaction.

Glad that he had had the foresight to shower the night before, Ashton took Calum being out of the room as his opportunity to dress himself. He shoved his sleep clothes into his suitcase and pulled out the customary black jeans, along with a sleeveless shirt; he'd wear some kind of jacket over it. He dressed quickly, not wanting to Calum to catch him (which was absurd), and was just pulling on his boots when the sound of the shower cut out. 

Ashton held his breath until the door opened and Calum emerged, looking utterly unfazed by the discussion (if it could even be called that [it couldn't]) that they'd just had. He was holding the towel around his waist, and didn't do more than glance at Ashton as he crossed to his bag and unzipped it, pulling out clothes. Skinny jeans identical to Ashton's, and a long-sleeved shirt to wear under a t-shirt. He tossed each piece of clothing on the bed, then looked up at Ashton, who tensed when Calum opened his mouth to speak. “Bathroom's all yours.”

The sigh that Ashton let out was huge and heavy, and he was thankful but wary of Calum's apparent nonchalance about his insistence that they couldn't kiss again. He tied his shoes, stood, and strode into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He looked back at the door, like he could see through it, see Calum, see what he was thinking that apparently made it ok to kiss someone and then forget about it like that. Not to say that Ashton had never had a one night stand or kissed random people—just, with Calum, it was different. They had a history, but they also had a concrete future, one that had both of them intertwined with each other's lives for the next foreseeable months— _years_ , really. He couldn't decide which was worse: That he'd allowed it to happen or that he called it off. That brought up a whole new set of questions. Did Calum even want there to be an “it?” Did it mean anything to him? It had to—he'd started it, he'd admitted to wanting to kiss Ashton for a long time. How long? Did he want to do more than kiss him?

This was getting out of hand. Ashton moved away from the door, deciding that he would talk to Calum after he finished in the bathroom.

He washed his hands, brushed his teeth, splashed some cold water on his face to reel himself back in, and flat-out refused to look in the mirror, studying his reflection for answers like there were any to be found there, because this wasn't a movie, and he had to leave the bathroom sometime and talk to his best friend. Why the fuck had he even brought it up?

Calum sat on his bed, tapping on his phone screen with one earbud in place. He was mouthing along to the lyrics of whatever he was listening to; Ashton could hear his breath almost forming words sometimes when he forgot to make an effort to be quiet.

“Hey,” he began, and Calum looked over, lifting his hand to remove the earbud and sling both around his neck. 

“Hey,” Calum said, turning a little to face Ashton, though not standing up.

The question that Ashton meant to ask slipped out of his mind, and what slipped out of his mouth instead was “Why are you cool with this? Or—or cool with this not happening?”

Calum's expression changed to one of confusion, and then what Ashton would have identified as amusement. “If you don't want to kiss me, mate, I won't make you.”

Now that he'd asked and been answered, Ashton didn't think that was what he expected. Calum waited for a response, but when Ashton seemed dumbfounded, he just laughed a little and continued. “Ash, it kinda just happened.” He gestured between them, but Ashton knew Calum well enough to know that Calum didn't just mean that he'd wanted to kiss him. Calum meant something more, something else that he felt for Ashton. “I'm not gonna be pissed if you don't feel the same.” He hooked one earbud into his ear again, hitting play on his phone, clearly considering the conversation closed but willing to continue if Ashton wanted. Which he did.

“So you're actually cool with nothing else happening?”

Calum laughed a little, then replied. “ _Yes._ ” He paused, bit the inside of his cheek, then continued. “I can't force you to want me back. And honestly, I didn't think you would anyway. So I didn't get my hopes up.”

“So,” Ashton said, pausing a moment to swallow the lump in his throat, “we're still cool?”

Calum snorted with laughter. “It'd take a lot more than this to break Cashton up.”

–

Despite what he _said_ , Ashton could tell that things were different now, between him and Calum. The very same day, about an _hour_ after the conversation they'd had, the band had piled into their SUV. Ashton climbed in first and ducked into the back row. Luke climbed in after him, choosing the middle row. Ashton, from his angle in the back of the truck, couldn't see when Calum gripped Michael's sleeve and tugged it. “Let me sit with Luke, yeah?” His voice was low; Michael could tell he didn't want anyone other than himself to hear.

Michael frowned, but shrugged. “Ok,” he agreed, then climbed in and squeezed into the back with Ashton. Despite the fact that SUVs were touted for their roominess, fitting four 6-foot-and-then-some guys into one was still a bit of a process. Calum hopped in beside Luke, who was sitting sideways in his seat, looking into the back. Calum, who ordinarily might have joined him in making stupid faces at his bandmates, probably while one of them filmed it for Snapchat, sat facing forward, headphones in, listening to music. Ashton didn't consider it strange, really; they all knew Calum was the least verbose.

 _hey. don't say anything_ , Calum text messaged to Michael, hoping he'd actually keep quiet as instructed.

Michael's phone buzzed, and he checked the screen. On any other day, he totally would have dramatically shouted “Why are you texting me, Calum, I'm sitting right here!” but something was up—something that apparently couldn't be discussed in front of Ashton, presumably because it had to _do_ with Ashton.

 _whats up_ , Michael replied, glancing to his left. Ashton wasn't even paying attention.

 _i don't really want to go into detail but something happened with ash_ , Calum said, fingers shaking a little. He had to backspace half the words in the sentence because he kept spelling them wrong. He was anxious—not because it had happened, but because he still wanted it to happen and it couldn't, and now he had to pretend he was fine with it, because what he had said to Ashton was true: He couldn't, wouldn't, and didn't want to pressure him into anything.

 _ooooooook_ , Michael sent, and then another, _well youll have to tell me eventually bc you cant keep me from luke forever_

Calum huffed, rolling his eyes. _i will tell you. this was me telling you that i need to tell you. just later. not through texts_

 _whatever is it the gay love affair that i predicted years ago_ , Michael asked, then sent the smirking emoji for good measure. Emojis, Michael had down pat. But punctuation? Michael considered it optional and superfluous.

Calum didn't answer right away, a little annoyed that Michael saw fit to make a joke out of something that, to him at least, was really fucking serious—and also that he was completely right about it. Calum's silence was all Michael needed to know that he'd guessed correctly.

 _hooooooolllllllyyyyyy shit!!!!!!!!!_ , Michael sent, and Calum just shut the screen of his phone off, not wanting to do this anymore, at least not right now. He felt his phone vibrate a few more times in his hand, so he shoved it in his pocket where he was willing to bet that Michael was sending :o face emojis repeatedly.

Thankfully, the ride to the airport was a short one, and when they arrived, there was a group of fans to distract Calum from his preoccupations. They each posed for pictures and slowly made their way to the terminal, wheeling their bags behind them or slinging them over their shoulders, guitars strapped to their backs. Calum loved meeting fans as much as the rest of the band, but when they made it through the crowd and past security, he breathed a sigh of relief. All he wanted to do was talk to Michael and figure out what the fuck to do about Ashton—or figure out a way to forget about it, more likely. He could pretend he wasn't bothered for as long as he had to, but that wouldn't change shit: He'd still want Ashton just the same. 

It had taken Calum a while to figure out just what “wanting Ashton” meant. Because at first, he'd seen him as an older brother type, someone to watch out for him and make sure he didn't do anything _too_ stupid while they were on tour. The four of them were all close friends, and Calum would never admit to it, but he felt something with Ashton that he hadn't really ever felt with Michael or Luke. He'd never pegged it as something romantic or sexual, or even more than just the affection you'd feel for your best friend, but when he'd told Ashton that he'd been thinking about kissing him for a while, he really meant that he had been thinking about kissing him for real: lips parted, hands in his hair, hips touching, craving more contact with each other; both of them ravenous, like they couldn't get enough. And that thought scared him, because why Ashton? Why now, after they'd known each other for years? It wasn't as though Calum had been harboring a secret crush on him since they'd met. It was just, somewhere along the line, from when they'd set off on the journey of being in this band together, he'd fallen for his best friend.

Calum's body was moving on autopilot as the four of them navigated through the airport to their gate, his mind occupied with too many thoughts whirring around.

He didn't think he could pinpoint the moment when the “falling for” had happened, even if he tried. He could, however, look back and realize that the stupid cliché about hindsight was true. It was almost like everything that had ever happened between them led right to now, when he looked at Ashton and felt a pull in his abdomen because he wanted to touch him. Not even in a sexual way—it was just to be near Ashton and feel the warmth of his arm against his own, or the nudge of his leg as he stood up from the seat beside Calum's. And now he couldn't even bring himself to talk to Ashton about it, all because Ashton didn't want him back.

And it wasn't even that that was the problem—or at least, Calum didn't think it was. He could deal with rejection, no problem. Wouldn't be the first time. He'd just write a song about it, let Luke sing it out on the next album, let Ashton wonder if it was about him (would Ash even consider that as a possibility, after he heard the lyrics Calum could write? Calum didn't know, but he felt like two parts of him were fighting for dominance over the belief of whether he would or would not: the jilted half and the accepting half).

By the time they were ready to board the plane, Calum was tired thinking, of being stuck in his own head.

–

“So, spill,” Michael said, nudging Calum's arm with his elbow. Calum was leaning back in his seat on the plane, a beanie that he had unceremoniously tugged from a side pocket of his bag pulled down over his eyes. He just wanted to sleep through the flight, to forget about the last few hours for a little bit. Maybe he'd even have the luxury of forgetting about it all for a few moments after waking.

But, no. Michael wanted to talk about it now. To be fair, it was probably the smart thing to do—just get it all out in the open and get some advice. In Calum's opinion, Michael was a much better human when he couldn't use emojis as part of a conversation.

“We good?” Calum asked, pushing his hat up onto his forehead, looking around to make sure they wouldn't be overheard. Ashton and Luke were sat beside each other, earbuds in place. Luke had his eyes closed, but Ashton was looking out the window of the plane and nodding along to the beat only he could hear. Calum watched for a moment, wondering if he'd be able to figure out what was playing by the rhythm of his movements.

Michael leaned closer into Calum's personal space, his words tickling Calum's cheek as he spoke. “If you took a picture, it'd last longer. Not to mention get a shitload of retweets.”

Calum looked away from Ashton before he realized he was being watched. He shifted a little, lowering himself in his seat, like making himself appear physically smaller made him less guilty.

He met Michael's eyes, who despite the slight smirk playing on his lips, actually looked like he would make an attempt to be serious. “So, something happened,” Calum said. Michael opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Calum continued. “I kissed him.” He had to say it first—he didn't want to have to deflect one of Michael's jokes and then admit to what happened. “And he kissed me back.”

Michael looked, for a solid three seconds, dumbstruck, but then his expression morphed into one much more slick, easygoing. “Well, of course he did. You're a catch.”

Calum, in any other circumstances, certainly would have appreciated it. Now, though, it made him feel even worse—because Ashton didn't think he was a catch. He didn't think anything of him other than that he was probably a mistake he'd like to forget about by pretending it never happened.

“Well, that was last night,” Calum explained. He almost divulged that they'd spent the night sleeping in the same bed, cuddling. “This morning he changed his mind.”

“About what?” Michael asked, leaning one elbow on the armrest between them. “Did you guys actually decide to...?” he asked, but trailed off. He wasn't sure exactly how to finish the sentence: Did they decide to date? To casually fuck? It was better to let Calum fill in the blanks.

“We didn't decide anything,” Calum said, hurriedly—it was easier to speak quickly, to just get it out before he felt like holding back. “He just said we couldn't do it again.”

“But you want to.”

“It's more than that,” Calum said, nearly exasperated, He had said it without thinking, but that only proved to him that it was the truth. He didn't just want to kiss Ashton: He wanted so much more, probably more than Ashton would be willing to give, if he were even willing to give anything at all.

“Then what is it?” Michael asked, voice soft; Calum was thankful that he grasped the gravity of this situation. Michael liked to be funny, but one thing Calum admired was his ability to be serious when he needed to be. Calum, not for lack of trying, only ended up seeming awkward and aloof when he tried to comfort someone.

“I like him,” Calum whispered, glancing over at Ashton from the corner of his eyes. He was nodding his head to different music now, slower than before. Calum wondered if he was thinking about him, or if he had thought about it at all since that morning. He would give anything to find out. “But it's not going to work out.”

Michael was frowning when Calum looked back at him. “That blows, dude,” he finally said after a few moments of silence. Calum groaned. “No, look,” Michael continued. “Maybe he just needs time—”

“He doesn't, though,” Calum interjected. “He said no, and like—I'm not going to push it. I just don't know what to do now.” He swallowed; he felt like his heart was in his throat and it was choking him. “If he wants to forget about it, so do I.”

“You don't, though,” Michael asked, though it wasn't phrased like a question.

“I _do_ ,” Calum said, stressing the second word. “It can just go back to normal. I don't want to fuck up the band by making things awkward.”

“He seems pretty normal already,” Michael said, looking around Calum to Ashton, who seemed to have noticed that he was being looked at more than a normal amount. He smiled at them, the corners of his eyes crinkling, and gave them a wave. Michael waved back, then sat back in his seat. “When did this even happen, anyway? Like, what, you just woke up one day with a boner for Ash?”

“ _No_ ,” Calum said, voice just a touch heated—he wanted serious Michael back, but obnoxious Michael seemed to want to make an appearance. “It feels bigger than that.” Michael snickered and Calum hit his chest with the back of his hand. “Can you not?”

“No, I get it,” Michael's voice sounded like he was amused, getting ready to make a joke, but Calum shot him a look, so he dialed it back. “I really do,” he tried again. “You can't forget about it though. I mean—you're trying to tell me you're...in love with him, right?”

Calum felt his cheeks get hot almost immediately. “No!” he said, trying to keep his voice quiet so it ended up as more of a stage whisper. “I'm not _in love_ with him, Michael, for fuck's sake.” Calum sounded insistent, because he was. He did love Ash—he loved Luke and Michael too—but that was different and completely not the same as being _in love_ with someone.

Part of Calum had considered it, that he might be in love with Ashton. He didn't really know what it felt like, but he supposed that what he felt for Ashton was as close as he'd ever been. It was ridiculous to even consider, though—they'd kissed for the first time not even one day ago, and Calum was certain that you couldn't love someone like that without there being some sort of mutual, reciprocal feelings.

“I just like him,” Calum said, “and if he'd liked me, I guess we could have figured something out. But he doesn't—and I'm _fine_ with that.” Calum said it after Michael had opened his mouth, most likely to argue with him. “I am. I just need to get my mind off it. Can I room with you for a couple nights?”

Michael preferred to room with Luke—it was easier to tease the fuck out of him that way, and he'd have to make some arrangements to sling jabs at Luke via Twitter or text message now, but he couldn't say no to Calum, especially not when something this heavy was going on. “Yeah, sure. I'll—can I tell him about this?”

Calum looked hesitant, apprehensive, and when he spoke his voice was quiet and quivering. “I mean...not everything? Can you just tell him me and Ash had a fight?”

“I don't want to make shit even weirder, Cal,” Michael said, but what he really meant was that he didn't want to lie to Luke. “He'll be cool about it—maybe he'll even talk to Ash for you.”

“I don't need him to talk to Ash for me,” Calum nearly snapped, then took a breath. “Sorry. Just—there's nothing to talk about. I'm not gonna be that guy who's pissed he got friendzoned and then keeps harping on about it.”

Michael just snickered. “All right, shit.” He said his next sentence louder, so everyone in their immediate vicinity heard him as he leaned over Calum and practically shouted across the aisle at Luke, “I'll tell Luke I'm sick of seeing his ugly mug first thing in the morning and last thing at night.”

Luke could hear that Michael was speaking to him, but didn't hear what was being said over the music in his headphones. He and Ashton both looked over as other passengers in front of and behind the band were looking around, craning their necks to see who was yelling and why.

“Are you talking to me?” Luke asked, removing one side of his headphones.

“Yes,” Michael said, voice changing to saccharine.

“Well, what?” Luke asked, Ashton peeking around him too.

“I'm rooming with Calum from now on,” Michael announced. Ashton's expression flickered for the briefest moment, and neither Michael nor Calum could decipher it: Was it relief? Worry? Jealousy? 

“Good,” Luke replied, leaning back in his chair again. “I didn't want to have to tell you I wanted to room with Ashton and get you all heartbroken and shit.”

“Oh, you're so funny,” Michael deadpanned. “Ha, ha, ha.”

Luke just turned his head and grinned at the two of them, unaware that anything more was going on.

Michael was right, Calum knew—one of them would have to clue Luke in. It wasn't fair that something that could potentially ( _but,_ Calum thought, _wouldn't!!!_ ) affect the band was being kept from him just by omission.

Calum looked over at Michael. “Yeah, tell him?” he whispered.

Michael looked over, met Calum's eyes, and nodded. “Sure, Cal.”

–

“Can I ask you something?”

Ashton and Luke were on their respective beds in the room across the hall from Calum and Michael. The TV was on with a movie playing, low enough that they could barely hear it; it didn't matter, because they weren't actually watching it. They'd checked in to their hotel after their flight landed, and were supposed to be “getting ready to go out,” but all that really entailed half the time was taking a piss before leaving the hotel room and grabbing a hat if it'd been a few days since seeing a shower.

Luke was tapping out a text message, or so it looked to Ashton. Ashton had put his phone away, because he'd run out of things to do and there was only so much distraction that the App Store provided. He sat up from where he was reclining on the bed and shifted so he was sitting, facing Luke, legs folded criss-crossed in front of him.

 _I gotta go. Ash wants to talk. Probably about whatever weird shit is going on with you and calum_ , Luke replied to Michael. He put his phone facedown on the bedspread.

 _no dont talk to him i need to talk to yoU FIRST_ , Michael furiously replied, but there was no answer from Luke. After a moment of radio silence, he pouted at Calum. “Fuck.”

“What's up?” Luke asked, untangling his legs from each other and shifting on the bed to face Ashton.

“Did you and Michael ever...” he trailed off. Luke waited, lips pursed, for Ashton to continue, but it didn't seem like he was actually going to.

“Did we ever what?” Luke prompted, trying not to sound impatient. It was a real effort—he didn't mean to get snippy with people, but he was always direct and it irked him a bit when people weren't the same.

“Did you and Michael ever, like, kiss, or anything?” Ashton asked, his mouth too full of words to get them out properly, and that had been literally the last thing Luke would ever expect to come out of his mouth.

“Did he say we have?” Luke asked, smirking. “Because that's just in his dreams.” Ashton watched him, like he thought Luke might be lying—he wasn't an idiot, and Luke and Michael were closer than Ashton and Calum were (or...had been).

“There was one time, in Year 10,” Luke continued, his smirk shifting into a smile as he remembered the story. “We found a bottle of rum in Ben's room.” Ashton waited for Luke to continue, urging him on with a nod of the head, even though if this happened back when they had to sneak liquor, it wouldn't really relate to what was happening now with Calum.

“We finished it—there was maybe this much left,” he said, holding up a hand with his thumb and forefinger indicating a decent amount left in the bottle. “I don't know if it'd count, or at least, if either of us'd count it now, but it was one of those 'I've never been kissed,' 'Me neither,' 'We should kiss just to get it over with' things. You know?”

Ashton nodded, because that made sense (and totally seemed like something a younger Michael would do—Hell, it seemed like something Michael would even do _now_ if he could), but it was also completely irrelevant. He laced his fingers together and kept his face angled down toward his upturned palms.

Luke reached across the space between their beds with one leg, nudging Ashton's knee with his foot. “Why?” 

Ashton's only response at first was just to move a little away from Luke's foot, which only tempted Luke to nudge him with it again, but he refrained. Antagonizing Ash wouldn't help shit—Luke wanted him to talk, because he clearly needed to. Luke's phone buzzed again by his side, but he ignored it. Michael could wait for five minutes.

“Why?” Luke asked again, a touch more force in his words. He bit his lip, silently willing Ashton to answer him.

“Because Calum kissed me,” he said, quickly, just wanting to get it out, “and I think I'm fucking up the band.”

Luke blinked, but Ashton was still staring down at his hands, so he missed the surprise on Luke's face. Luke licked his lip, swallowed, opened his mouth, then closed it, because he wasn't sure what to say just yet.

“I thought I was cool with it, but then I wasn't, and he said it was fine, but now he's acting like it's not fine,” Ashton went on, peeking up at Luke for a second before returning his gaze to his hands, resting on his lap.

“Well—” Luke began, but Ashton kept talking.

“He said he liked me. And that he didn't think I'd like him back, but I kissed him too. Before I knew he liked me, I mean,” he said, and this time he did look up and meet Luke's eyes. “So he probably thought I did, but I don't. I mean—I don't think I do? I don't know. He's my best friend.” He paused, took a breath. Luke waited again, because he anticipated that Ashton would go on—which he did. “So now he's pissed because I blew him off.” He winced at his choice of words. “...Figuratively.”

Luke stayed silent for a moment, in case Ashton had even more to say, but when he didn't keep going, Luke took a deep breath, then spoke. “Ok, so. If he likes you and you told him you don't like him, then maybe he just wants some space.” His phone buzzed again, and Luke actually rolled his eyes at it, flicking it further away with his fingertips. “Like, I mean, if I liked someone and they weren't interested, I'd probably do the same thing.”

“I'm fucking up the band,” Ashton said again, sighing, then leaning back on his hands, angling his face up toward the ceiling.

“You are not fucking up the band,” Luke said. “You said it yourself—he's your best friend. Well, you're his, and he'll get over it. Fuck, once we play our next gig he'll probably be totally back to normal.” Luke wasn't sure if this was helping; Ashton didn't look appeased, but he did shrug as if to accept what Luke was saying as truth.

“Probably,” Ashton said, meeting Luke's eyes for a moment. Luke tried to look as though he actually believed what he was saying.

“I think you should talk to him about it,” Luke commented, standing up as he did. He reached over the bed to pick up his phone, glancing at the screen and snickering at the three texts from Michael: the one telling him not to talk to Ashton, a second one that said _LITERALLY TALK TO ME LUKE_ , and a third one, which was just fifteen of the crying cat emoji. He ignored them and stuck his phone in his pocket. “Maybe tonight, after you've got a couple drinks in you. You're still coming, right?”

Ashton bit his lip. “Think I'll sit this one out,” he decided, and Luke looked like he wanted to say something else, but instead he just grabbed one of his snapbacks and put it on, shaking his head.

“You're not helping yourself out with that, mate,” he said, walking over to the door. “This won't go away on its own.”

Ashton wasn't sure whether Luke meant Calum's crush on him or the sinking feeling that he surely was ruining the band, but he was spared having to ask by the hotel door shutting behind Luke as he left.

–

Playing their next show did help—Luke was totally right, and Ashton should have known that he would be. Calum was smiling more than he had for the last couple of days, spending time practically attached to Michael at the hip (much to Michael and Luke's growing disdain), but getting back on a stage knocked Calum right out of whatever funk he'd been in. He grinned wide at Ashton as they walked off, handing their instruments to the techs before being ushered outside toward their waiting SUV. 

“Fun, right?” he asked Ashton, and Michael purposely hung back, grabbing Luke's wrist to hold him back as well, so that Cal and Ash could talk (not necessarily _Talk_ , which Michael hoped would happen some time soon, now that first contact had been made).

Ashton glanced over, partially to make sure that Calum was actually talking to him, but also to see if anyone else was near them—but, no. Michael and Luke were a good twenty steps behind them, so he was on his own. _Don't fuck up the band, Irwin._

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Always is, though.”

Calum just shot him another smile as he clambered into the truck, tossing himself into the middle row of seats, sliding over to the window. Michael and Luke were still ambling behind them, so Ashton climbed up and, without waiting for any encouragement from Calum, sat beside him. Calum didn't protest; his knee was bouncing with adrenaline—the boy was just happy from playing music.

Michael and Luke joined them in the car, and Luke poked Ashton's arm around the side of the seat, so Calum wouldn't see. Ashton turned a little in his seat to look back at Luke, but found that both Luke and Michael were staring openly at him, eyes wide, expressions expectant. Ashton laughed a little, despite himself—he assumed that Luke had spoken to Michael about what Ashton had told him, but he didn't think that they'd both make it their mission to get him back in Calum's good graces. Even though Ashton hadn't done anything, it seemed to be working. A small spark of hope flickered to life in his chest—maybe Calum had gotten over it with just getting a few days' space from him, like Luke suggested he would. That would be the ideal. He still couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't entirely fair for him to have, however unintentionally, led him on the way he did. He would have to do what Luke told him to, and just talk to Calum.

That would be easier said than done—when they arrived at their hotel, they were promptly informed that four rooms had been secured, one for each of them. That helped a little—Ashton didn't have to deal with Calum giving Michael puppydog eyes until he relented and agreed to room with him again. Even though Ashton understood why Calum was doing it, it still sucked to have his best friend pick someone else over him because of something he'd done.

They checked in, boarded the elevator, and once they arrived at their floor, Michael pulled the four of them into a small huddle, his shoulders pressing against Luke's and Ashton's, Calum across from him. He leaned in, forcing all of them to do the same, until their foreheads were almost touching. Calum giggled a little, still giddy from the show, and Michael finally whispered, “Meet me at the stairwell in fifteen minutes.” He left before the three of them even knew what was going on, and disappeared into his room. Luke snickered as he and the other two straightened up.

“Do you know what he wants?” Ashton asked, but Luke just shook his head.

“It's Michael,” he answered, by way of explanation, and shrugged before taking a few steps backward toward his room. Ashton looked at Calum, who, now that it was just the two of them, seemed a little uneasy again. He mussed his hair, then glanced at the door to his room.

“See you in fifteen,” he said, swiping the key and stepping inside.

Ashton did the same, pretending that he had something to occupy him for fifteen minutes before he went to meet the rest of his band by the stairs. Knowing Michael, they were going to be doing something that they probably shouldn't be doing.

He heard Calum's door open about ten minutes later, then shut quietly behind him. Ashton shut off the TV, tossed the remote behind him onto the bedspread, and followed Calum out into the hall. He was already rounding the corner, heading to the stairwell, but Luke was across from him, letting his door close.

He followed Ashton's gaze to where Calum had vanished from view, then spoke. “Progress?”

Ashton looked for a moment longer at the hall Calum had turned down, then looked at Luke. “I mean, he looked at me for longer than a second, so, I guess so.”

Luke shrugged one shoulder, leaning his head to the side for a moment. “Guess so,” he agreed, then motioned for Ashton to walk with him. They set off together, following the path Calum had taken, and found him standing with Michael, waiting beside the door leading to the stairs. Michael was holding the comforter from his bed, gathered up into a messy bundle, with part of it still dragging on the floor. Calum had a bottle of Jack Daniel's in his hands.

“Where'd you get that?” Ashton asked, nodding at the bottle. Calum immediately pointed at Michael, whose blank expression turned into a grin after all eyes were focused on him. In lieu of answering, he just said, “Let's go,” and pushed the door open, stepping onto the landing. 

They followed him upstairs for several flights, more than any of them thought to count, but by the time they were all huffing and puffing, Ashton finally spoke up. “Are you bringing us to the roof?”

“So intuitive,” Michael replied, though he sounded winded—probably because he was carrying that stupid, oversized blanket. After a few more minutes of climbing, Michael stopped, bringing the rest of them to a halt on various steps.

“Hold this,” he said, pushing the comforter into Luke's arms. Luke scowled but took it—he had no choice. Michael approached the door at the top of the last flight of stairs, presumably to the roof. It was plain and grey, with a sticker proclaiming “Staff Only” on it, above another sticker that read “No Exit.” He tried the knob—it was open. He grinned back at them. “Sweet.”

“Do we even want to know?” Ashton asked, voice stern, but his facial expression betrayed him, because he was smiling.

“No,” Michael said simply, and led them out onto the roof.

It wasn't pitch dark as Ashton had assumed it would be, but neither was it well-lit. There was a floodlight above the door they'd exited; Michael was already walking away from it, taking them to a dimmer spot. They followed him, and once he stopped, Luke dropped the bedspread unceremoniously on the ground.

Michael began to spread it out, motioning for Luke to help him. Calum was toying with the cap of the whiskey bottle. Ashton was watching him, so when Calum glanced up, their eyes met. Instead of looking away like Ashton assumed he would, Calum gave him a small smile—probably because Luke and Michael were around. He supposed it wasn't as awkward with all four of them together.

“Crack that open,” Michael said from behind Calum, who looked over his shoulder at Michael. Luke was sitting on the edge of the comforter, legs bent at the knee with his elbows resting on them, but Michael had hopped up onto a ledge, surrounding what was probably one of the air conditioning units for the hotel. His feet didn't quite reach the ground; he was letting them sway back and forth, heels bouncing off of the concrete structure he sat on. Playfully, he tried to kick Luke in the face, but Luke batted his foot away. “Fuck off, Clifford,” he mumbled, grinning, and scooted himself backward, away from Michael's reach.

Calum turned to face them, twisting the cap off the whiskey bottle. Michael leaned forward, both hands reaching for it, but instead of walking forward to give it to him, Calum took a sip. He strode over to the large, white square spread on the ground and sat beside Luke, offering him the bottle. Luke took it, smirked at Michael, and took a long draw of the deep amber liquid. He lowered it, grimacing a little at how much he'd drunk at once, then cleared his throat and finally offered it to Michael.

“Gee, _thanks_ ,” he said, rolling his eyes and grabbing the neck of the bottle. “It's not like I got this for us or anything.” He took a sip as Ashton joined Calum and Luke on the blanket, choosing to sit beside Calum, the three of them all facing Michael.

They sat in silence for a while. The only audible sounds were the liquid tipping back and forth inside the bottle as they passed it between the four of them and traffic, tens of stories below them on the street.

“How much trouble can we get in for being up here?” Ashton finally asked, turning to look at Calum and Luke, then up at Michael.

Michael shrugged, took a swig from the bottle, then placed it on the ledge beside him. He hit his heel on the wall he was sitting on a couple times before answering. “No idea. Does it matter?”

Ashton just hummed in response, not deeming it worthy of an answer because no, it didn't, and then leaned back onto his elbows, letting his legs splay out in front of him, just half of his body on the comforter. It was plush enough that he couldn't really tell that he was actually lying on the hard surface of the roof; he could rest comfortably on his back. Michael had picked a good spot for them, Ashton had to admit, when he tilted his head back and looked up at the stars shining above them. He dropped from his elbows to lie flat on his back, letting his hands move to rest on his stomach.

“Y'ok, Ash?” Luke asked, leaning back, around Calum, and studying his prone form.

Ashton nodded; the liquor he'd drunk was warming him up, and he'd had enough to feel a buzz but not much more than that. He was beyond ok. “Just taking in the view.” He lifted one hand to point up at the sky—the rest of them followed where his index finger was pointing.

“So romantic,” Michael said, giggling a little. He slid off the ledge, hopping down, landing in between Ashton's legs. He stepped over them carefully, then sat down heavily beside him, throwing himself back as well. He folded his hands behind his head. “You finally figured out why I brought you all here: Seduction.”

Calum chuckled and reached over Ashton to smack Michael on the stomach. “You could never be so smooth, Michael, never.”

Luke laughed in agreement. “True. You have no game.”

“ _Not_ true!” Michael protested, but the rest of his band was already laughing. After a moment of indignance, he cracked a smile. “You guys suck,” he managed, before he laughed a little too.

Calum pushed himself up onto his knees to reach up and grab the bottle of Jack again, opening it and taking another sip. He sat across from the other three, back leaning against the wall that Michael's feet had been hitting against, and offered the bottle to Luke, who shook his head and leaned back on his hands. “I'm good.”

“Look,” Michael said, pointing up. They all looked up, but didn't see what he meant until they realized the angle of his arm was changing with each passing second: there was a light blinking high above them, moving across the sky.

“That's a plane,” Ashton said, as though they really needed the explanation.

“No shit,” Luke said, looking over at Ashton and giving him a flippant smile.

“Airplanes,” Michael sang, grinning, “cut through the clouds like angels can fly.”

“Oh my god,” Luke groaned as Michael continued on with the chorus. “Stop it.”

Calum laughed and closed the bottle of whiskey, leaving it behind as he moved closer to squeeze himself in between Michael and Ashton. Ashton didn't make any effort to give him more room—Calum's thigh was pressed against his side, and having some contact with him, even in this capacity, felt amazing after so many days of not even speaking to each other more than small talk. He smiled as Michael and Calum finished the chorus together. Luke was sitting forward again, chest pressed to his legs, one hand covering his face and shaking his head, but they could all see he was smiling.

“All of this time,” Michael continued, then stopped singing, interrupting himself with a “Sing with me, Luke!” before going right back into “I questioned myself, I never could wait.”

“No,” Luke said over him as Calum echoed Michael with a second “I never could wait,” but they all could tell his resolve was breaking. Calum leaned over Ashton, and now their stomachs were pressed together, and Ashton held his breath as Calum tugged on Luke's sleeve. “Sing with him, Luke,” he implored. Ashton lifted his head a little under the pretense of watching, but really, he was looking at Calum, wondering if this meant that all was forgiven between them, that they could be best friends again, that Ashton didn't fuck up the band.

Michael paused and took a deep breath before starting the chorus again, and this time, when he and Calum sang, practically shouting the lyrics, half-laughing through them, Luke joined them. They were making too much noise, but it wasn't like anyone could overhear them all the way up here anyway. They were having fun—but most importantly, Calum was treating Ashton like his friend again, and that was all that mattered, at least to Ash.

“I never wanna wait for this, I believe I was made for this,” Michael and Calum shouted, tripping over their words just a little. Luke was actually trying to sing the words the right way, and Ashton couldn't help but grin at them all, still laying back in the bedspread.

Calum looked down at Ashton as they began the last chorus, nudging him in the stomach with his elbow. Ashton raised his eyebrows, like he couldn't tell that Calum wanted him to join in for this last one. He did, holding Calum's gaze as he sang his first line with them: “We'll never die.” The four of them were grinning, singing, all pretty much laying on top of each other. In that moment, it really felt like they never would.

Calum had turned his face back up to the stars moments earlier, but Ashton didn't look away from him as they all finished with an overly loud, discordant, “I've got something to prove, nothing to lose, in this city, in this city.”

–

“The bottle is _empty_ ,” Michael slurred, pressing it into Luke's chest. They'd only ended up drinking about half of the bottle, the rest spilling onto the comforter when a stray foot had knocked it over (one of the downsides of being tall as hell: moving legs, even as carefully as possible, often resulted in tragedy, or at least spilled alcohol).

“That's not my fault,” Luke answered, pushing the bottle back toward Michael.

“It _is_ ,” he insisted. “You kicked it over.”

“On _accident_ ,” Luke said.

“Can't you go get more?” Calum asked, like it wasn't well past midnight already.

“Just means it's time to turn in,” Ashton said—one of them had to be the responsible one, and it was usually him.

“No,” Michael whined, but Ashton was already standing up, gathering the corners of the stained comforter up. Calum and Luke stood, but Michael stayed firmly where he was, spreading out his arms and legs.

“I'll roll you down the stairs if I have to,” Ashton said; a completely empty threat, but it got Michael to at least sit up. Ashton pulled more of the comforter into his arms. “Up. Come on.”

Michael reached both arms up toward Luke, who snickered but took Michael's hands in his own and tugged. There was a moment where Luke actually almost teetered over, because Michael wasn't making the slightest effort to stand up on his own, but Calum wrapped his arms around Luke's waist and held him upright. Michael allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. Ashton watched, amused, and collected the rest of the blanket.

“Onward,” he commanded, making sure that all three of them were walking before he set off toward the door to the stairwell. Calum opened the door for them, holding it so Michael, Luke, and Ashton, with his awkwardly-shaped bundle, passed through first. Michael clomped down the stairs back to their floor, leading them to their four rooms like some kind of drunken parade leader. He swiped the key to his room and opened the door, holding it open with his back as he opened his arms for Ashton to pass him his bedspread. Ashton gave it to him, and before the door shut behind him, Ash saw him toss it into the corner and just flop facedown onto his unmade bed. Luke unlocked his door and nodded at Ash and Calum, mumbling “'Night,” before slipping into his room too.

Ashton turned to Calum, giving him a tight smile as he felt in his back pocket for his room key. “'Night, Cal,” he said, pulling the key from his pocket. He turned to his door and swiped the key. Just as the light turned from red to green, the mechanical lock opening, Calum spoke.

“Wait.”

Ashton looked back at him and the door locked itself again, the light shifting back to red. “What?” Ashton asked, not daring to hope that Calum might actually have more to say to him than just wishing him sweet dreams.

“Can we talk?” Calum asked, and it was almost comical how Ashton actually stopped breathing for a second. Then he just nodded, took a breath, and stuttered, “Y-Yeah. Yeah, sure, come in.”

He tried the doorknob before remembering that these things were timed, and he would have to swipe the key again. He did, fumbling with it—the stupid thing wouldn't go in the _damn slot_ —but finally he managed and the door whirred, unlocking itself. Ashton opened the door and led Calum inside. The room was dark, and he flicked the nearest light switch before the door shut behind them. The fixture over their heads blinked to life, bathing them in wan light. Ashton looked back at Calum as though this conversation would take place right there between the bathroom and closet doors, but Calum walked around him and over to the bed.

Ashton watched Calum closely, taking a few steps toward him. He didn't sit, but instead stayed standing, facing Ashton, who left a buffer of space between them, just in case that was still necessary. Calum wasn't looking at him directly; from what Ashton could tell, his gaze was fixed somewhere around his knees. He wasn't sure if he should say something first, but he did anyway.

“I don't want to fuck up the band,” Ashton said, which was a thought that had recurred more in the last three days than anything else he'd ever thought in his life.

Calum met his eyes and just laughed a little, quietly. “You aren't fucking up the band.”

It took Ashton a moment to catch on to the way Calum said that, so he changed tactics. “I don't want to fuck us up either.” He gestured between them.

“You didn't,” Calum said, almost too quickly. “Pretty sure that was me, but, yeah—I want to go back.”

“Go back,” Ashton repeated.

“To before. It was stupid to do it.” He lowered his eyes, slipping away from looking into Ashton's, because he was embarrassed to have to talk about it and admit he was wrong. “To kiss you, I mean. I shouldn't have, 'cause, like—why would I even think you wanted to? We were never like that, me and you.”

“Cal,” Ashton began, but Calum shook his head.

“I just wanted to say, it's cool. I already feel better. So don't sweat it, yeah? As far as I'm concerned, shit's totally back to normal.”

“ _Cal_ ,” Ashton tried again, more urgently this time. It was absolutely the alcohol pumping through his system that was giving him the courage to say anything at all, but he could swear that he still felt the weight of Calum's body on top of his, from when they were up on the roof.

“What?” he said, after a moment, apparently ready to hear whatever Ashton had to say.

“I don't know what I want,” he said, then stopped, to collect his thoughts into coherent sentences. His head was just a touch fuzzy from drinking straight whiskey before, but he swallowed and licked his lower lip before going on. “But, like—I want it with you.”

Calum's eyes narrowed just a touch, and he opened his mouth to speak, but Ashton kept going.

“I don't even know what I mean by that, but I do. I liked it. I liked it with you—kissing you, I mean. It wasn't weird. Well—ok, it was a little weird, but that's just because—like you said, we were never like that. But we could be.”

A smile tugged at the corners of Calum's mouth, but he didn't let himself show any happiness just yet, just uncertainty. “We could be what?”

“I don't _know_ ,” Ashton stressed, lifting a hand to run through his hair, messy and matted just a little from laying on the comforter on the roof for hours earlier. “But could we figure it out?”

The smile finally won out on Calum's lips. “Yeah.”

–

“Just saying, we should be asleep right now,” Ashton murmured.

“Just saying, I'm ignoring you,” Calum said, pulling off his jeans. He had left the room for three and a half minutes (Ashton hadn't meant to keep track, honestly) to grab something to change into for bed, and for the next morning. Ashton was pretty damn sure that _this_ hadn't been Michael's intention when he got them all to drink on the roof of the hotel, but it was a pretty damn good side-effect of it. While Calum was gone, Ashton had retrieved his own pair of plaid pajama pants to wear. He'd wiggled out of his jeans and pulled them on just as Calum returned to the room.

They hadn't planned on doing anything specific, but after agreeing to figure out whatever the two of them were going to _want_ or _do_ or _be_ , Calum also decided that he was going to spend the night in Ashton's room. He'd grabbed a t-shirt riddled with holes and a pair of sweatpants (that Ashton recognized as his own, though he refrained from commenting on that) and a change of clothes for tomorrow, which he stowed on top of Ashton's bag.

Calum tugged the t-shirt on, stepping slowly into the sweatpants; Ashton could tell he didn't want to risk losing his balance. While Calum dressed, Ashton just tried to straighten his hair as much as he could, and make sure that his tank top wasn't accidentally tucked into the back of his pants or anything that would make him look foolish. He had absolutely no idea why he was so goddamn nervous—Calum was his best friend and they'd just agreed that maybe they could be more. It was probably the best possible scenario he could have been in, considering everything that had happened the last few days leading up to this point, when he was convinced beyond a doubt that Calum would likely never look at him again, much less speak to him.

Calum pulled the pants up, adjusting them on his hips, then looked up at Ashton and gave him a smile. Ashton returned it—he was feeling immensely relieved that Calum had given him a second chance, and he knew that he wouldn't waste it this time. The fact remained that he had liked kissing Calum, and he wanted to do it again. He just needed to apologize for taking so long to realize it.

Ashton motioned for Calum to turn down the covers on the bed with him, and as they did, Ashton spoke. “I just need to say: Sorry, for the other day.”

Calum dropped the blanket and sheet and turned to the pillows stacked on his side of the bed, arranging them so they'd be more comfortable for him to lay on. “You don't have to say you're sorry,” he said after a moment.

“Well, ok, but I still am. I—was kind of a dick about it.”

“You really weren't,” Calum argued, sitting down on the bed and looking up at Ashton. “You were actually pretty cool, considering.”

“Considering?” Ashton prompted, almost afraid to know.

“Considering that you were probably freaking the fuck out about it but trying not to show it,” he said, smirking. Ashton smirked back at him, simultaneously hating and loving that Calum knew him so well.

“Did you know that I'd change my mind?”

Calum's smirk changed to an all-out grin, but then he laughed. “No. Michael thought maybe—but I really didn't.”

Ashton laughed a little. “Ye of little faith.”

Calum shrugged, then turned himself so he was facing Ashton, and laid down—almost the exact same thing he'd done the last time they shared a bed, except he didn't look like he was doing anything other than getting ready to sleep. Ashton mirrored him, lying down beside Calum. The light by the door was still on, but it was dim and barely lit the room at all except for what was directly below it.

They laid there for a minute, Ashton's face in shadow, Calum's slightly illuminated because he was facing the light. “Are you tired?” Calum asked.

Ashton shook his head. “Not really.”

Calum didn't say anything, but instead shifted himself closer to Ashton; he wasn't close enough that they were touching just yet, but Ashton could feel the pull of the sheets as Calum inched nearer to him, could feel the slight change in temperature as Calum's body warmed the air between them.

“Me either,” he said, and his voice was so low that Ashton barely caught what he said as Calum finally closed the distance between them, the sheets rustling softly as their bodies fit into each other.

The kiss was infinitely superior to the first one—even to the second one. Both boys melted into it, both letting themselves really _want_ it; Calum moved one hand to Ashton's hair and Ashton moved one hand to Calum's side. Calum parted his lips and Ashton followed his lead, aware in every fiber of his being of how Calum's body felt pressed against his own, aware of how it felt _right_ , but mostly aware of how _stupid_ he was for not letting himself realize that he wanted this days ago. 

Ashton moved his hand down to Calum's waist, then to his lower back, holding them together even though Calum was already so close to him that he didn't think they'd ever break apart. Calum's hand was tangled in his hair, tugging it a little to end the kiss and tilt Ashton's head back, exposing his neck, which Calum pressed his lips to. He touched him softly with his mouth, lips dragging against the skin more than kissing him. Ashton almost didn't notice that Calum had begun, gently and slowly, rolling their hips together.

This was the moment, Ashton knew, that if he wanted to stop, he had to say something. This was the line he'd drawn, unbeknownst to himself, and crossing it meant there was no going back. He gasped quietly as Calum sucked softly on the spot where his neck met his shoulder, but didn't ask him to stop. He didn't _want_ to stop—he wanted this, he wanted Calum to keep his mouth on his neck, to keep moving their hips together, to keep touching him.

Ashton slid his hand beneath the back of Calum's shirt, palm pressing against his bare skin. Calum took this as his cue to move on, and removed his hand from Ashton's hair, curls clinging to his fingers for a second until he shook them loose. He relocated his hand to Ashton's hip, his thumb curling underneath the waistband of his pants—and underwear, Ashton knew, because Calum's thumbnail scratched him just a little. He could feel Calum slowly moving them both lower over his hip, but still, he didn't stop him. Instead, he did the same to Calum, just much less gracefully: He slipped his whole hand underneath Calum's sweats and pushed them down, the fabric bunching up on his wrist as he did.

Calum kissed him again then, pushing Ashton's pajamas and underwear down enough that his cock was exposed. He was only half hard, but Calum's forearm brushed against the head as he made sure Ashton's clothing was out of the way, and Ashton whimpered softly against Calum's mouth. Without moving away from him again, Calum moved his hand to his own hip, where Ashton's was still resting, fingers splayed out and unmoving. He pushed his own underwear down, nudging Ashton's hand out of the way to expose himself beneath the bedsheets as well. They were close enough that a slight movement from either of them would bring them back into contact, but Calum didn't move. “Are we still cool?” he breathed to Ashton, who just nodded, his eyes boring into Calum's—he would be eternally cool because he was doing this with Calum— _his_ Calum, his best fucking friend, who he trusted more than he trusted himself sometimes.

Ashton felt Calum's hand move back to his hip, rubbing the front of it with his thumb, but leaving the space between their bodies, not wanting to rush into anything. Ashton pulled Calum's face to his own again, sucking his lower lip into his mouth before he fumbled around between them. He didn't want to seem inexperienced by having to look where he was putting his hand, so he just felt down the front of Calum's body, letting the trail of hair below his bellybutton guide him. His fingertips nudged Calum's dick, and Ashton felt him huff a short laugh against his cheek. 

“You can touch it,” he whispered, and Ashton huffed right back at him.

“Keep that up and I won't,” he replied, but took Calum's cock in his hand, trying to seem like he knew what he was doing. For fuck's sake, he _had_ one—it shouldn't be this difficult, but the angle was wrong and he could already tell that the way he had his wrist positioned wasn't going to be comfortable in the long run.

But then Calum's hand was on him too, his lips tracing slowly over the underside of his jaw, and Ashton stopped giving a shit about anything that wasn't Calum making him feel like his heart was about to explode.

It was obvious after a few moments of the two of them awkwardly stroking each other that neither of them had done the gay sex thing before. Ashton laughed a little, leaning his forehead against Calum's, as their arms bumped repeatedly into each other. “We suck at this,” he said, amused.

“It shouldn't be this hard,” Calum said, then shook his head when Ashton opened his mouth to make a joke.

“Maybe just—let me move a little,” Ashton said, and pushed his body a few inches further up the bed, resting his shoulder on his pillow; now, Calum wouldn't have to reach as far down—their arms wouldn't cross into each other's space. Biting his lip, Ashton tried stroking Calum again, who whimpered softly and pressed his face into Ashton's neck as he moved his hand the same way. Ashton lowered his face, letting his lips press into Calum's hair as they kept their hands moving over each other.

Now that they'd figured out a better way to position themselves, it was easier to touch each other. Ashton kept his cheek resting on Calum's hair, while Calum nosed at Ashton's neck, kissing and licking him, sucking softly and purpling the skin as he did. Ashton sighed softly and nuzzled Calum's hair as he began to roll his hips into Calum's hand, a bit quicker each time, his hand unintentionally matching his rhythm. Calum whimpered into the hollow of Ashton's collarbone, tongue flicking over it. Ashton's hand tightened just a touch around Calum, who moaned softly and tried to fuck Ashton's fist.

Calum changed how his hand was fixed around Ashton's cock; he focused on the head, his thumb teasing the slit, then rubbing against the underside, back and forth. Ashton's breath caught in his throat and he moved his hand a little faster over Calum's cock, but the way Calum's thumb was working over him was too much for him to keep his composure much longer; he bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut, lips pressing against Calum's hair as he came, suppressing the moan that sounded low in his throat. He felt Calum's hand keep moving over him until his body relaxed, and he fell away from Calum, relaxing back on his pillows.

“Shit,” he breathed, laughing a little. Calum was grinning; he wiped his hand off on the sheet beside him, but he didn't let Ashton stay still for too long.

“C'mon,” he said, voice just edging on a whine. Ashton took a deep breath and rolled back onto his side, moving a little down the bed so he was face-to-face with Calum. He took hold of Calum's cock again, and this time, when he started moving his hand, he pressed his lips to Calum's, kissing him as he jerked him off. He tried the same technique Calum had used on him, moving the pad of his thumb over the slit in his cock. Calum whined for real this time, one arm pulling Ashton closer and holding them together as they kissed, leaving just enough room for Ashton's arm between their bodies.

Ashton teased the slit in the head of his cock, biting down just a pinch on Calum's lower lip, and Calum came with a heavy sigh, hips bucking a little into Ashton's hand. Ashton retracted his hand once Calum's body was no longer tensed up; the two of them made eye contact and immediately dissolved into laughter.

“We really just fucking did that,” Ashton said, voice light, high.

“ _Yeah_ we did,” Calum enthused, grinning. He pulled Ashton back toward him for another kiss, which Ashton returned. He reached behind himself to wipe his hand off as well before letting it rest on Calum's side as they kissed. It wasn't rushed—it hadn't been before, either, but now it felt calmer, safer, more secure, the way that the two of them had always felt around each other.

Ashton might not have been sure what he wanted, exactly, but this was a good start.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Well, don't stop calling – you're the reason I love losing sleep_

“Really?” Michael sounded like he didn't believe what he was seeing; he was grinning wide. Luke looked as though he'd have liked about another three hours of sleep, yawning and tugging on one of his shirtsleeves that had folded up on itself, trying to straighten it to no avail.

“What?” Calum asked, but he wasn't making eye contact with anyone else in the hall. He had emerged from Ashton's room fully dressed—really, he should have gotten up earlier and snuck back next door before Michael or Luke were awake to avoid this exact thing.

“ _Really_?” Michael repeated, and it almost looked like his eyes were actually twinkling with complete and utter glee. “That was all it took? Some Jack on the roof and you let Ash make a man out of you?”

Luke rolled his eyes and looked at Michael, still silent and very obviously over his bullshit—he often thought it was too early for Michael's sense of humor (or what _he_ considered funny, anyway).

“Because you had sex,” Michael explained.

Calum huffed and turned away from them, neither confirming nor denying this. “Can I get my stuff, please?”

Michael frowned. “Come on. It's Shang. From Mulan. No one?” He looked between Luke and Calum, who was now opening the door to his room and ignoring Michael so he could grab his suitcase, the door swinging shut behind him.

“Swift as the coursing river?” Michael tried again, but was just met with Luke's blank stare. “Mysterious as the dark side of the moon?”

“Do you ever stop?” Luke asked, voice flat.

“Not really,” Michael replied as Ashton's door opened. He jumped, startled, not expecting both Michael and Luke to be standing there like they were waiting for him.

“Oh, hey,” Ashton said, laughing a little at being surprised by the two of them. “Morning.” He didn't say anything about Calum—maybe they'd all just managed to miss each other, somehow. It wasn't like Ashton didn't want Luke and Michael to know—they knew pretty much everything else already—but maybe having to let them know that he and Calum jerked each other off the night before wasn't the way he wanted to start his day.

“Morning,” Luke mumbled, trying to cut Michael off from saying anything, but that didn't work in the slightest.

“So you and Calum, huh?” Michael asked, a smile gracing his lips. He wiggled his eyebrows for effect.

It wouldn't be worth even trying to deny, so Ashton just shrugged one shoulder, huffed a short, unamused laugh, and tucked his hair back behind his ear. “I guess so.”

Michael opened his mouth to reply, but before he could say anything, Calum's hotel room door opened and he stepped out, wearing a half-zipped hoodie and holding a knit beanie hat in his teeth because both of his hands were occupied: one was holding the door open and the other was attempting to maneuver his bag into the hall, but the wheels kept catching on the carpet. All three of them watched him for a minute before he realized they were even still standing there. He looked up at Michael, then Luke, and finally noticed Ashton. He was glad that the bunched-up knit fabric of the hat was hiding most of his face, because his expression would have given away his fear that Michael had already pumped Ashton for as much information as he could. With one final, mighty tug, he pulled his case out of the room, the door finally slamming shut.

“Hey,” Ashton greeted him, as Calum took the hat out of his mouth, pulled it on, and nodded to him, like they hadn't spent the rest of the night awake and whispering, each kissing the other every time he almost nodded off until they both finally fell asleep, foreheads touching. At least there was no way that Michael could know _that_.

“Should we go?” Luke said, phrasing it like a question even though it was a command made to keep Michael from being as nosy as humanly possible. Ashton agreed with vehemence, and set off with Luke toward the elevator. Calum followed, dragging his bag behind him, and Michael fell into step next to him, reaching up with one hand to adjust the brim of his snapback. He tried a different tactic.

“I mean, you'll tell me what happened, right?” Michael was looking at Calum, still half-smiling, eyes bright with intrigue. Even though he looked mischievous, he was genuinely asking.

Calum glanced at him, eyes flicking to Ashton's back for a moment. “Not right now,” he said, trying to sound amused and a bit more confident than he felt. “Later, maybe.”

“You better mean that,” Michael said. “I get the feeling you and Ashton will room together for eternity now. We'll never get any time together, Cal. Don't forget about Malum.”

Calum laughed a little, shrugging one shoulder, and reaching up to tug the hat a little further down over his face. “It's not like that.”

They turned down the next hallway, where Luke and Ashton were already waiting for them in front of the elevators. Once he spotted them, Ashton jabbed his finger at the button, calling the car to their floor.

“Ashton,” Michael began, and as soon as Ash made eye contact with him, he continued with, “what are your intentions with Calum?”

Ashton blanched, Luke snickered, and Calum hit Michael on the arm, but Michael just crossed his arms over his chest and looked at Ashton expectantly. Ashton actually looked at Calum for assistance before Michael laughed, shaking his head and waving the question away with one hand. “I'm kidding, dude. You can do whatever you want with him, I don't care. Just, please, be sure to practice safe sex. It's incredibly important. Don't be embarrassed to have to go buy condoms, we all use them.”

The doors to the elevator slid open, and Ashton was glad for it; now he could hide how red his cheeks surely were by turning away and stepping away from his band. Michael followed closely behind him, with Luke and Calum entering after them. Luke pushed the button for the ground floor and the doors closed. Ashton kept his face turned away, but the mirrored walls did nothing to help hide him. Michael was watching his reflection, and when Ashton happened to meet his eyes in the mirror, Michael grinned at him, raising his eyebrows a couple times.

Ashton looked away again, but this time, he wasn't quite sure why. He wasn't embarrassed of Calum—that was far from the truth. Michael and Luke both knew the biggest details of what was going on—that Calum and Ashton, at the very least, had some unresolved tension between them—but now Michael had gone and made the assumption that Ashton and Calum had worked through it. For the first time, Ashton allowed himself to consider the possibility that maybe Michael knew more than he let on and had totally planned the rooftop singalong just to get things moving in the right direction. He lifted his head again and looked into the mirror. Michael was still looking at him; their eyes met, and Ashton returned the knowing smirk that Michael was giving him. Michael gave him a small nod—he wouldn't take credit for whatever happened between the two of them, but he still wouldn't let them forget that he basically hooked them up, so, _you're welcome_.

Once they were nestled into their SUV, Michael and Luke beside each other in the middle row with Calum and Ashton in the back, Michael turned suddenly to face them like he expected to find them entwined, complete with kissing and heavy petting. He actually looked a little disappointed.

“What?” Calum asked, and Luke looked up from his phone to take in the sight of Michael peeking into the back of the car. Luke shook his head.

“He does not stop,” he mumbled under his breath, smirking down at the screen of his phone.

“ _I_ can't help it if I want to know the intimate details of my two best friends' relationship,” Michael said in response, barely looking at Luke for a moment before nodding at Calum, then at Ashton. “Well? Come on. Inquiring minds want to know.”

“Know what?” Ashton asked—not that he was actually planning on answering any questions.

“Everything,” Michael said, still smiling. “Are you guys, like—” he paused, looked over his shoulder, but no one else in the car was paying attention, not even Luke “—together?”

“It's not really like that,” Calum said again, and Ashton just shrugged, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. The truth was that they hadn't really talked about it that much, even though that had literally been the plan for the previous night. Unfortunately, that had fallen by the wayside when Ashton realized just how _completely fucking ok_ he was with Calum touching his cock.

“We're just kind of going with it,” Ashton said, then turned his face toward Calum just a little to be sure he had said the right thing.

“Going with it,” Michael repeated lamely. He seemed dissatisfied. “So what does that mean?”

It wasn't particularly a loaded question, because neither Ashton nor Calum had any real expectations for whatever their arrangement would bring. Probably actually talking about it would help—but as things were, they were just friends. With benefits. And _slight_ smidges of feelings. Barely even any at all. For real.

“It means _they_ don't even know yet, so stop asking,” Luke said, still not looking up from his phone.

Michael scoffed and readied himself to say something else, but Calum spoke. “Michael—look.” He cleared his throat and kept his gaze away from Ashton, who he could tell was watching him, waiting for what he was going to say. “We're just taking it one step at a time right now.” Ashton nodded once to himself—he agreed with that assessment. Calum continued. “As soon as anything changes, I will obviously let you know, because me and Ash being me and Ash is _all kinds_ of your business.” He sounded amused now, like he was just fucking with Michael. “And of course, you can be my best man at our wedding.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “If you're not going to take this seriously, I'll just be Ashton's best man instead.” He tried to keep his expression solemn, but failed and ended up laughing. Calum laughed too, and Ashton snickered.

“Next time you take us up to a roof, we'll tell you all about it, Michael,” Ashton said, meeting Calum's eye and chuckling quietly. “Maybe even let you join in.”

Michael grabbed Luke's arm, shaking it a little in mock excitement. “That's my dream come true!” he said, as Luke pulled his arm away, snickering at the whole situation. “Be still my heart.”

–

It was a few days before Calum and Ashton really had a chance to be alone together again—with promo and filming interviews and performances, sleep was higher on their list of priorities than most other things—each other's bodies (unfortunately) included.

“We have the morning off?” Michael asked, looking to Luke and Ashton, who he found usually had the details that he had always been informed of but promptly forgot.

“Yeah,” Luke replied, leaning back against the wall of the elevator, the fingers of one hand wrapped around the grip of his bag, the other hand splayed on the front of his thigh.

“Good,” he said, nodding. “My Pokémon miss me. I haven't played with them in so long.”

“You're going to play Pokémon all night?” Luke asked, giving Michael an incredulous look.

“We can still hang out, Lukey, don't worry,” Michael said, crossing the elevator to stand beside Luke, throwing an arm around his shoulders. “My 3DS is totally portable. I can bring it right on over to your room.”

“I _was_ worried,” Luke deadpanned, but he couldn't help the beginnings of a smirk quirking up the corner of his mouth. “Thank you for putting my fears to rest.”

“It's the least I could do.” Michael leaned against Luke, squeezing him in a side-hug.

Calum looked over at Ashton during the exchange between the two others, giving him a small smile, asking him wordlessly if they could hang out. Ashton met his eyes and shrugged one shoulder, trying to be as subtle as possible. Luke, however, provided enough of a distraction that Michael didn't notice—or maybe he'd gotten the message that it wasn't as cute as he thought it was to keep pestering his bandmates about their sex lives.

When the elevator arrived at their floor, the four of them filed out and meandered down the hallway the wrong way before Ashton noticed that the numbers were decreasing, and their rooms were the opposite direction.

“It's like an adventure,” Michael said, resisting turning around even as Calum grabbed one of his wrists and pulled. “We can explore the hotel. I bet if we look hard enough we'll even find another bottle of booze to drink.”

Calum tugged his wrist as Luke spoke. “I thought you missed your Pokémon.”

Michael scoffed. “I said they missed _me_. I'm a grown-ass man.”

Luke opened his mouth to say something, but Michael continued: “Also I do miss them.” Luke laughed, vindicated, and Michael turned to let Calum pull him back down the hallway, following Ashton to their designated rooms. Ashton stopped in front of his, with the other three separating and moving to their doors. Four doors unlocked in quick succession and each of them stepped inside their room, though Ashton made sure to put the latch in the door so his wouldn't close all the way—he wanted Calum to be able to get in when he ended up coming over.

The sliver of light from the hallway illuminated the room just enough that Ashton could see where he was walking, but he couldn't make anything else out. He felt around on the wall for a lightswitch but couldn't find one, so he just made his way forward in the dark, propping his bag up in front of the closet as he went, and tugged on the chain that switched the lamp beside the bed on. He sat on the edge of the bed, the crisp comforter wrinkling a little under his weight, and untied his shoes, tossing them over by his bag. One hit the closet door—or so he thought. The noise he heard was actually a small knock, followed by shuffling footsteps. Ashton looked over as he heard a small squeaking noise as the latch was moved out of the way, and then the door clicked shut. Calum appeared, finally. He'd changed clothes, but not entirely—he was still wearing his black jeans but had traded his band t-shirt and plaid button-down for an overlarge sweatshirt, and he'd removed his shoes but left his socks on, so his footsteps were muffled as he moved over to Ashton, taking his place beside him on the bed.

It was just the two of them, and Ashton felt nervousness bubble to life in the pit of his stomach. He suppressed it, though, and stood up. He shrugged out of his shirt, then glanced back at Calum. “I'll just change really quick—we can watch TV, yeah?”

Calum watched him, not bothering to hide how he was looking at Ashton's back, at his shoulderblades and his muscles flexing as he tried in vain to fold the half-inside-out shirt before just crumpling it into a ball and tossing it to the floor near his shoes. 

“If you want,” Calum finally answered, plucking the remote control off the bedside table and scooching a little further back onto the bed. He turned on the TV but didn't actually put any effort into looking for something to watch—he was already watching Ashton, who had stridden over to his bag and was crouching beside it, digging around looking for something to wear to bed.

“Hey,” Calum said, and Ashton paused in his search to look back at Calum over his shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“How about you...don't,” Calum said, pausing, like maybe he didn't want to finish his sentence, but ultimately, he did. “...Wear anything.”

Ashton shifted a little, moving from squatting down on the balls of his feet to resting one of his knees on the ground; he sat on his leg and looked fully at Calum, who held his gaze even though he looked ready to be rejected again. Ashton, however, just licked his lip, nodded a couple times, and stood back up. “All right.”

Calum's eyes widened for a fraction of a second, but he just smiled at Ashton—so it was still real. Whatever they had, whatever they were doing, it was still real between them.

Ashton undid his jeans and pushed them down, stepping out of them; they always got caught around his ankles, so he braced himself against the closet door with one hand and kicked them off his feet. He left the pants on the floor and crossed back over to the bed in just his underwear. Calum smirked up at him from the bed, but Ashton just pulled the covers down on his side; Calum was sitting right in the middle, so it wasn't as successful as he'd hoped—there was barely enough room for him to slide between the sheets, but he did anyway, careful not to stay too close to the edge of the mattress.

“Go on,” Ashton said, gesturing to Calum. “You're still wearing everything.”

Calum didn't even retort, which Ashton expected him to—no, he just sat up straighter and pulled the sweatshirt off, tossing it off the foot of the bed where it landed with a faint _whump_. He undid his jeans, but because he knew he'd have the same struggle as Ashton, he rolled flat onto his back and lifted his hips, pushing them down around his knees. With his legs stuck in his pants, he let them flop down onto Ashton, who moaned in mock pain, feigning injury, before sitting up. Calum's legs were now in his lap, albeit on top of the comforter, and Ashton tugged the jeans off of his legs along with his socks, letting them fall to the floor beside the bed, too.

Now, though, they were both in just their underwear, and there was a small moment where neither of them did anything other than look at each other.

“Should we talk first?” Ashton asked, and Calum laughed a little to himself, quietly.

“Do you think we need to?” Calum asked in return.

“Maybe not. But I'm just—I'm still—” Ashton began, but stopped when Calum crawled over to the head of the bed and slipped under the covers with him.

“Go on.” Calum nodded for him to continue.

“I'm still...figuring this all out,” Ashton said after a moment of gathering his thoughts. He looked at Calum, hopeful that he was understanding what Ashton was trying to say.

Calum met his eyes, then nodded. “Me too.” He smiled a little, trying to ease the tension. “I get it. I don't expect us to...” He trailed off, laughing a little. “I don't expect us to be, like, boyfriends.” He snickered at the thought, and Ashton chuckled a little too. That was the last thing that had crossed his mind. They could just do what they were doing and be themselves—Ash and Cal, a pair without the title, a couple in everything but the name. That worked for him.

“So we'll just go with it,” Ashton said. Calum nodded, confirming the thought. Ashton grinned at him. “Sweet.”

Calum breathed out a laugh, then let his gaze drop down to Ashton's mouth. “Yeah, sweet. But can I please fucking kiss you now?”

Ashton felt the nervousness in his stomach flare up a little but he suppressed it, instead leaning over and kissing Calum first, their lips meeting in something that Ashton could only describe as comfortable: no awkward repositioning of their mouths was necessary, which he was grateful for, because now that he was touching Calum again, it was all he wanted to do. He moved one hand to Calum's side, turning more toward him, and parted his lips, drawing Calum's between his own. He kissed him hard, desperate, and was only spurred on by how he felt Calum clinging to him, pulling him closer. Neither of them had realized they'd missed it this much, apparently, but now that they had the chance, they weren't going to take it for granted—they had no idea when the next time they would get to be like this was.

Calum definitely didn't want to waste time—he leaned into Ashton, pressing as much of their bare skin together as he could, before he finally just pushed himself up, moving to straddle him. The kiss had broken from Calum's movement, and Ashton was glad for it, because now he could stop to let himself adjust to the weight on top of him, but also to how his best friend was _right fucking there_ , mostly naked, and nosing at his neck, lips ghosting over his skin. Ashton rested his hands on Calum's hips for want of a better place to put them—he was ok with this, he kept thinking to himself, because it was Calum, and Calum meant safety, security. This band was all he had sometimes, but Calum was home to him.

Calum's nose bumped against the underside of Ashton's jaw, and before he even registered that he was doing it, Ashton had ducked his head to take Calum's lips again, kissing him a little slower, taking the time to actually savor it. Unconsciously, he was squeezing Calum's hips, his fingertips pressing into the skin of his waist. Calum's palms were moving over Ashton; though he had kept them still for a few moments, he had given that up and begun shamelessly feeling up the muscles in Ashton's back as they kissed. Calum parted Ashton's lips with his tongue, deepening the kiss as his hands drifted lower, splaying out, fingertips moving beneath the waistband of Ashton's underwear.

Ashton's back stiffened up a little at the contact—yes, he had expected this, but he still needed time to get used to the idea that fucking around with Calum would eventually lead to... _butt stuff_. He wasn't opposed—it had literally been on his mind since the first time Calum had touched his cock—but it was still something he had to reconcile with.

Calum noticed his reticence; he pulled away from the kiss, but not far enough that his lips didn't brush against Ashton's when he spoke. “Is this ok?”

“Yeah,” Ashton shook his head, trying to rid himself of the doubt and nerves that were threatening to encompass him. “Yeah,” he said again. “Just never done it before.”

Calum snickered, and instead of feeling self-conscious, Ashton laughed a little too. “If I do something you don't like, then we stop. Simple as that.”

Even though Ashton already knew this, already felt completely calm and in-control of the situation, he was still thankful that Calum had said it aloud. Ashton kissed him again, and Calum seemed to take this as his cue to continue groping him. His hands moved as low as they could on Ashton's body, which wasn't very since he was sitting down against several pillows; Ashton visibly relaxed into Calum's touch after a moment, and after a split-second decision, moved his hands to Calum's ass to pull him closer so their fronts were touching. He kept his hands there, holding Calum's crotch against his; he could feel Calum's dick chubbing up against his own, and he unwittingly let out a groan against Calum's mouth. Calum pulled away for a moment, sighing heavily with arousal, then licked back into Ashton's mouth, moving one hand up to tangle in his hair, keeping sure to hold him close so they wouldn't pull apart again.

Calum shifted his weight into Ashton, forcing him to lean back a little. Ashton moved with him, letting Calum slide their fronts together, his legs on either side of Ashton's hips. Calum kissed Ashton's lips one more time before lowering his face, kissing and licking the skin of his neck before sucking a bruise onto the top of his shoulder—somewhere that it could be hidden. Ashton sighed, not watching Calum's face but instead leaning his head a little to the side to watch Calum as he rubbed his hips against Ashton's; the result was feeling Calum's length against his thigh, and feeling Calum's thigh against his own half-hard cock. It was a little too overwhelming—Ashton reached down to stop Calum from moving, but instead turned his hand and cupped it around Calum's dick through his underwear. The back of his hand was still against his own cock, but Ashton slowly moved his hand against Calum's; the boy on top of him shuddered and stopped moving quite so much, pressing his face against Ashton's shoulder and letting out a shaky breath.

“Shit,” Calum murmured. Calum was grinding against Ashton's hand so hard his knuckles were pressing against his own dick. Ashton could feel Calum's warm, shuddering breath on his shoulder.

“Good?” Ashton breathed out, quiet, and Calum nodded vigorously in response. Ashton moved his hand counter to how Calum was moving his hips: back and forth, opposite each other. Calum whined, biting the hickey he'd left on Ashton's shoulder before turning, his nose tickling Ashton's neck.

“I want to try something.”

Ashton kept his hand moving even as Calum stilled his hips. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Calum sighed, trying hard to keep his voice steady. He pulled away from Ashton, who didn't fail to notice that Calum's cock was so hard it was tenting his underwear away from his body. “You have to be on your hands and knees for it, though.”

The wisp of nerves in Ashton's abdomen tripled in size; he cleared his throat and leaned his head to the side. “For _what_ , exactly?”

Calum looked like he either couldn't or wouldn't say. He licked his lip and smoothed his hand over his hair. “I want to, um.” He met Ashton's eyes, then huffed a short, embarrassed laugh. “I—Give you a rimjob?”

Dead silence filled the room, and Calum immediately fell back from where he was kneeling beside Ashton, sitting on his calves, toes bent uncomfortably against the mattress. “Nevermind, forget I asked. Sorry. We can do something else. Or nothing else! That's cool too. We can just watch TV.” He said all of this incredibly quickly, not giving Ashton a chance to get a word in edgewise, but when Calum turned away, Ashton grabbed his wrist.

“We can try it,” he said. “Isn't that the point, to figure things out together?”

Calum looked simultaneously immensely relieved and quite as though Ashton had just given him an early birthday present. He grinned and moved back toward Ashton, kissing him roughly. Ashton barely had time to kiss him back before Calum had pulled away again and begun trying to turn Ashton over himself. Ashton laughed and moved with him, partly because Calum's excitement was contagious.

“Have you done this before?” Ashton asked, only feeling a little vulnerable in the position Calum had him in.

“I've had it done to me,” he answered, like he had been desperately wanting to tell someone else about it since it had happened. He moved his hands to Ashton's hips and leaned up, over him, letting his lips trail over his back, not kissing him as much as teasing, softly, trying to get Ash into it. He curled one hand into the waistband of Ashton's underwear, but didn't pull them down just yet—first, he moved his other hand down over Ashton's side to his front, sliding it down to cup his cock. Ashton's hands bent in on themselves, gathering the sheet between his fingers as Calum's hand moved over his length. He sighed softly as Calum's mouth reached his lower back. He did place one kiss against the base of Ashton's spine before straightening up, using both hands now to pull his underwear down, leaving them around Ashton's knees.

The absence of Calum leaning up against him and the fabric around him made Ashton shiver a little. He glanced over his shoulder. “Cal?”

“Still here,” Calum said, shifting closer to Ashton, who could tell by the mattress dipping behind him. He tensed up a little when Calum's hands moved to the outsides of his thighs. He really wanted to look back behind him to see what Calum was doing, but the anticipation of not knowing exactly what Calum would do next was also kind of lowkey doing it for him, so he resisted. He was, however, beginning to question if anything else would happen before he felt Calum's hands shift from his legs up to his ass, wasting no time in spreading him apart. Ashton mumbled “Jesus,” and pushed his face into the closest pillow—this was actually a lot more than he bargained for, because he was acutely aware of everything Calum was doing even though he couldn't see him. Each slight move Calum made, adjusting his knees or shifting his weight from one to the other, resulted in Ashton feeling it through the bed itself. He felt the mattress dip down below his knees; Calum's fingers dug slightly into his ass cheeks to hold him open, and he knew Calum was going to—

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Ashton breathed out. Calum had flicked the tip of his tongue over his hole, and it was a sensation that Ashton found incomparable to anything else sexual that he'd ever experienced. “Fuck,” he repeated, voice muffled a little by the pillow.

Calum repeated the action, drawing another swear from Ashton, before he flattened his tongue and licked over Ashton's hole again, slower this time. Ashton was trying to breathe through his nose, keeping his mouth clamped shut to avoid embarrassing himself with any noises he might make, but Calum was licking harder at him now and Ashton was biting his lip to muffle the groan reverberating from his chest.

It struck Ashton how completely unopposed he was to this, despite never even considering participating in something like this in the past. Calum's tongue was warm and wet against him, and Ashton spread his knees a little further apart for Calum, convinced that this would make it better. His cock was hanging heavy between his legs, but he ignored touching it in favor of leaning back a little against Calum's mouth.

Ashton heard Calum hum from behind him, likely because he was _totally ok_ with Ashton wanting more from him; he focused the tip of his tongue against Ashton's hole and pushed, slowly working Ashton open. Calum made an amused noise when he heard Ashton gasp loudly at the feeling of having something inside of him; Ashton laughed a little too, pathetically, embarrassed.

“Shut up,” he admonished, voice weak. Calum just worked his tongue a little further inside of Ashton in response, licking at him from the inside, sucking at him, too. Ashton was fucking grateful that he was on all fours—his knees would have given out long ago if he were in any other position—it was _that_ fucking good.

Calum withdrew his tongue and resumed licking over Ashton, his tongue dipping inside of him each time from where he'd opened his hole up. He removed one hand from Ashton's ass to reach around him, fumbling for his cock, his face half-buried in Ashton's ass. The lack of finesse was obvious, but Ashton didn't give a shit. It felt good—so what if Calum had never eaten a guy out and jerked him off at the same time? It wasn't like Ashton could even tell the difference.

As soon as Calum's hand wrapped around his leaking cock, Ashton moaned, loudly, pushing back into Calum's face, eliciting a short whine from him. He balanced himself on one elbow and reached back, helping Calum hold his ass apart—he was too close, too fucking wound-up to be self-conscious about it now—and opened his knees a bit more. Calum's hand was pumping over his length with a quick, even rhythm, thumb and forefinger gently squeezing the base of the head each time they reached it. Ashton could feel precome dripping onto Calum's hand, partially slicking his fingers a bit each time they moved over the slit in the head.

“Cal,” he muttered, not even to get his attention, but just to say something, to show just how much he fucking loved this. He sighed Calum's name again as he lapped at Ashton's hole a few more times, then focused on fucking him shallowly with his tongue as he stroked his cock. Ashton rocked his hips back and forth into Calum's mouth, then his hand, his mouth, his hand, over and over again. He felt his hips twitch of their own accord as Calum's hand tightened around the base of his dick. He took a sharp breath in, managed to murmur “Cal, I—I'm—” but Calum was sucking at Ashton's hole, and Ashton felt his legs shake, the arm supporting him wobble a little. He came with the next rough stroke of Calum's palm over his cock, pressing his face into the pillow because he was moaning louder than he should have been—he felt like he could fucking _scream_ because of how hard Calum made him come—and he had to smother the noise somehow. His whole body was trembling when Calum pulled away, lapping at Ashton a couple more times as he gradually slowed his hand down on his cock, finally releasing it entirely when Ashton's body relaxed.

His chest was heaving when he rolled onto his side; Ashton felt completely spent, but looked up at Calum from where his head was resting on the pillow. Calum wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, clearly a little self-conscious now that Ashton was looking at him, but Ashton just grinned wide up at him.

“Give me a second,” he asked, holding up his index finger to indicate he just wanted a moment to catch his breath. He held Calum's gaze and laughed a little, closing his eyes and pressing his face into the pillow. He sighed, shifted away from the streaks of come on the bedsheet, and then sat up again, reaching down to push his underwear the rest of the way off and toss them off the bed.

“So it was good?” Calum asked hesitantly after a moment. Really, he was pretty sure that he knew the answer, but he wanted to hear Ashton say he liked it.

“It was good,” Ashton replied, leaning back against the headboard; he was still a little breathless, but he motioned for Calum to move closer again. Once he was within reach, Ashton pulled Calum's face to his and kissed him, miraculously not even minding where Calum's mouth had just been. Calum straddled Ashton's thighs again, but instead of letting their cocks rub together, Ashton moved his arm between them to touch Calum through the underwear he still had on. Calum whimpered against Ashton's mouth—he was nearly uncomfortably aroused; Ashton could tell by the wet spot near he felt near the head of Calum's cock. Ashton kissed Calum one last time before pulling away.

“Can I try something now?” he asked, voice soft, and Calum nodded in response. Ashton gestured for Calum to get off of him, so he did, moving to sit beside Ashton on the clean, unused part of the bed. Ashton crawled around him and between his legs. “Lie back,” he instructed, and Calum shifted his ass a little closer to Ashton and reclined a bit. Ashton pulled Calum's underwear down in one quick movement; Ashton was too preoccupied with maneuvering them off of each of his legs to notice how Calum's dick sprang back against his stomach, but he did notice the resulting small mewl Calum let out. Ashton smirked up at him when he heard it, inching closer to Calum and pushing his legs apart with his knees.

Calum's hands were fisted into the sheets beside him—he was eager to see exactly what Ashton wanted to try, though he did have his suspicions. Ashton brought his lips to Calum's again, kissing him softly, almost too chaste for just having had his ass eaten by the other boy, but then lowered his lips to Calum's jaw, neck, chest—as he kissed lower down his body, he also moved himself backward, out from between Calum's legs. Calum was staring, watching the progress Ashton's mouth made (though he'd be lying if he said he didn't let his gaze wander down Ashton's back and ass as it arched in front of him). Ashton's lips dragged over his bellybutton, tongue flicking out against it and making Calum give a short giggle because it tickled. Ashton glanced up at him, still smiling, before angling his face down again.

This time—and Calum had no real idea it was coming, because Ashton's mop of hair obscured his view—his tongue trailed over the wet tip of Calum's cock. Calum immediately lifted a hand to curl into Ashton's hair, gripping it as tightly as he dared, and tighter still when Ashton's lips closed around the head. He sucked, cheeks hollowing around it as he swallowed. Calum bit his lip, leaning a little further back against the pillows to try and watch.

Ashton wasn't sure just how deep he could take Calum—he found he was most comfortable with just a couple inches in his mouth, because any more than that and he felt himself about to gag, which was something he really didn't want to do. He pulled off Calum and licked at him: first, one long stripe from his balls up, then he let his tongue move in a circle around the head, before focusing on the slit, teasing it with the tip of his tongue. Calum moaned, high-pitched and desperate.

“Can—” he began, but stopped and swallowed thickly before continuing. “Fuck, Ash, more?”

It took Ashton a moment to realize what else he could do—there was no way in hell he was getting Calum's cock deep enough into his mouth to satisfy him with what would end up being a half-assed blowjob—so he just moved one hand to wrap around him as well. He sucked the tip of Calum's dick and worked his hand over the rest of his length. Calum groaned his name and the nervousness that Ashton had felt in his stomach earlier changed to pride—he could make Calum feel as amazing as Calum had made him feel. (Knowing that was pretty fucking awesome. Band and friendship totally not ruined!)

Ashton moved a little further onto Calum's cock—he had never done this before but he knew from experience what he liked, so he laved his tongue against the underside, his hand still moving over what he didn't have his lips around. Calum tugged gently on Ashton's hair with the hand still holding his curls; he moved his other hand to his leg, palm pressing flat against his thigh as his head rolled back, resting against the headboard. Ashton wasn't the best he'd ever had at this, but there was something about the effort he was putting in that made it pretty damn good anyway. A sigh puffed from between his lips, and then Ashton's tongue poked at the slit in his cock in just the right way and Calum's lower body stiffened as Ashton did it again, noticing how Calum liked it. He spoke quickly, pulling on Ashton's hair a little more roughly than he would have normally.

“Gonna—gonna _come_ —Ash, _Ash_ —” he stammered.

Ashton heeded the warning—a mouthful of jizz wasn't really something he was ready for just yet—and pulled off of Calum, moving his face away from his cock, though he kept his hand working around him, up and down his length. His skin was soft, slick from Ashton's saliva, which made it easy to jerk him off quickly, his hand tight enough that there was the right amount of friction. Calum's hips jerked up off the bed as he finally finished, white lines of come landing on his belly, on Ashton's hand. He met Ashton's eyes and again, like the first time, laughed. Ashton giggled a little too, picking up the edge of the loose top sheet and wiping his hand off on it. He offered it to Calum, who took it as well and cleaned off his front.

“We're disgusting,” Ashton commented, looking at the state of the bed—the sheets were rumpled, which wasn't as much of a problem as the fact that they'd gotten come literally _everywhere_.

“Well, that's your side,” Calum jerked his head to indicate where Ashton had been sitting before. “My side isn't that bad.”

“I think I'm just going to take your side as my side,” Ashton said, crawling back over Calum and flopping down on top of him. Both of them were a little sweaty, and Calum's front a little sticky, but neither of them minded the close proximity. Calum wrapped his arms around Ashton and kissed him; after a moment, he rolled them onto their sides—a more practical position for sleeping—but didn't part their lips. He kissed Ashton; how long, he didn't know—it could have been minutes, or hours: time didn't exist for Calum just then. All that mattered was that he had his body pressed against Ashton's, and he couldn't remember ever feeling better.

–

“You know,” Michael said, lifting his legs up and stretching them across the couch (and Ashton) to let his feet rest in Luke's lap, “we should get a place together.”

“We already have one,” Luke answered, pushing Michael's feet off of him. Michael allowed it, but just bent his knees and settled his feet against Ashton's leg instead. Unlike Luke, Ashton didn't see the point in indulging Michael in his perpetual quest for attention, so he just didn't even react.

They were all seated in the back of their tour bus, after a show: Calum was plucking at Luke's guitar, not really working on anything specific; Luke had, after at least twenty minutes of begging turned whining, managed to wrangle Ashton into playing FIFA with him; and Michael had actually (amazingly) taken a break from playing Pokémon to address the rest of the band.

“I don't mean where we _write songs_ ,” Michael said, sighing—no one understood him and it was a tragedy. “I mean, like, a place to live. We should move into an apartment and hang out all the time.”

“We have to work, Michael,” Ashton said, looking over at him—it didn't matter because Luke was slaughtering him in their game anyway.

“Not constantly!”

“We can't all live together,” Calum said, strumming a major chord on the guitar. “That would be a nightmare.”

“You just want your boyfriend all to yourself,” Michael said, grinning over at Calum.

“You just want an excuse to call Luke your domestic partner,” Calum retorted, though his cheeks had warmed a bit. He and Ashton still hadn't decided on the title of “boyfriends,” but for all intents and purposes, that's what they'd become in the weeks since Michael had gotten them all on the roof of that hotel.

“Gentlemen,” Ashton interrupted, stopping the spat before it even started, and Luke snickered—that was literally the last thing any of them could be called, ever. “It's not the worst idea Michael's ever had.”

“Oh, thanks,” Michael said, scoffing. “I have good ideas all the time.”

“Debatable,” Luke muttered.

“It makes _sense_ , though,” Michael pressed on. “If we got apartments in LA or something—”

“California?” Ashton asked. “I figured you meant somewhere in Sydney.”

“We could all stay with our parents at home,” Michael said, waving his hand and dismissing Ashton. “It makes sense to get a place in the States.”

“Kinda does,” Luke agreed. “We're here enough anyway.”

Calum shrugged, neither agreeing or disagreeing—he really didn't care as long as they all stayed close to each other. Leaving his family in Australia would be hard enough. He didn't want to be without his band, too. He strummed another chord on the guitar as Ashton spoke.

“It's definitely worth thinking about,” he said, looking at Michael, then at Calum. “I don't think I'd want to live in LA on my own, though.”

Michael snickered. “You don't need to make up an excuse to say you want to get a place with Calum.”

“I'm not making up an excuse!” Ashton said, laughing. “Besides, who's to say Luke even wants to live with you?”

“Of course Luke wants to live with me. I'm his best friend and he's completely lost without me.” Michael leaned a little to the side to catch Luke's eye. Luke shrugged, pretending to consider someone else.

“Ashton would probably be the best roommate,” he said, and Michael gasped, mock-offended, and stretched his leg over Ashton to kick Luke's knee. Luke slapped his shin in response.

“Too bad I'd pick Calum over either of you,” Ashton said, looking at Calum out of the corner of his eye and smiling at him. “Guess you're stuck together.”

Michael cheered and kicked Luke again for good measure, but Luke just laughed. “I knew that was coming.”

“We all did,” Michael said, finally sitting straight on the couch as Luke pushed his legs away for a second time. He sank low in his seat and resumed his game, tapping at the screen with the stylus. “It's for the best. Now you two can fuck whenever you want in peace and Luke and me won't get sexiled.”

“Sexiled, Michael?” Luke said, laughing at him.

Ashton and Calum were actually glad that neither Luke nor Michael were paying either of them close attention—at the mention of fucking, their eyes widened and they pointedly looked away from each other. It wasn't that they didn't _want_ to—it was just a little difficult to find the time (or space) when they were now touring. Living on a bus half the time and being completely fucking exhausted the other half wasn't conducive to a healthy sexual relationship (at least, in their opinions). They weren't exactly proud of the sheer number of times they'd laid awake in their bunks on the bus while Luke and Michael slept just across the aisle from them, sexting and jerking off, trying their hardest to be silent.

“It's a real concern,” Michael said, looking over at Luke for a moment. “Be thankful we won't have to deal with it.”

–

“I thought they would never go to bed,” Ashton muttered, turning the TV in the back of the bus on and lowering the volume just enough so it wouldn't wake anyone but would provide some white noise for them.

“I know,” Calum said, and even though it was dark enough with the lights off that Ashton couldn't really see his face, he could tell just by his tone of voice that he was amused, most likely by Ashton's impatience.

Luke and Michael had turned in about half an hour before, but Ashton and Calum had decided to wait a bit longer before venturing down the aisle to grab a change of clothes for themselves. If Ashton had also nodded to Calum to grab the bottle of lube they'd gotten (ok, so Calum stole it from the last place they'd stopped, sue him), that was just taking advantage of the situation.

The four of them were all pretty beat from the tour schedule, and they'd just played their third show in as many days for...probably the millionth time. Staying up late after Luke and Michael finally gave up being conscious was their only hope to be alone anymore, at least on their godforsaken bus. Fortunately, they'd gotten pretty good at screwing around in the back, keeping a hand pressed over their mouths to avoid any unnecessary noises waking anybody up, and straightening up so it was like it never even happened.

Calum had changed right in the aisle, shucking his jeans off and leaving them in a pile on his pillow. He pulled on a pair of basketball shorts, then tugged his t-shirt off over his head, opting instead for a hoodie. He shrugged it on and zipped it up before realizing it was actually Michael's. He considered removing it, but then decided he didn't actually care. They'd be super careful not to get anything on it. Well, probably.

Ashton had taken his sweats into the bathroom, mostly because the aisle was too narrow for more than one person to stand in it at once—forget actually needing some range of motion to change clothes. In what he considered a stroke of genius, Ashton removed both his pants _and_ underwear, stepping into the sweats once he'd done so. He figured he could leave the shirt he was wearing on—half the time when they were together on the bus, they couldn't be as attentive to each other's upper halves as they really might have liked.

Ashton slid the door to the small bathroom open and stepped out, leaving his clothes in a pile on one end of the couch—he'd put them away later. Calum was waiting for him on the couch, hood up, hands tucked into the pockets. He looked like he was waiting to catch a train. Ashton chuckled at the sight.

“Like I really kept you waiting that long,” Ashton said.

“Long enough,” Calum replied, reaching up to push the hood back off his head.

“Did you grab—” Ashton began, but was spared having to actually say the word “lube” when Calum pulled the small bottle out from the pocket.

“Yes,” Calum answered the unasked question and sat up a little straighter. Ashton crossed the small space and sat beside him; they both glanced furtively at the door that led to the bunks, making sure they wouldn't have any unwelcome guests, and then looked back at each other. Ashton smiled as Calum leaned toward him, and their lips met for the first time in what felt like days but really had only been a few hours.

They weren't in a _rush_ , per se, but they knew that they had no time to focus on each other the way they would have preferred. By the time Calum had parted Ashton's lips with his tongue, Ashton had already gotten his hands on Calum's thighs, palms flat on the tops of them with his thumbs tucked between his legs, massaging small circles through the slick fabric. Calum parted his legs as much as he could while sitting sideways on the couch, facing Ashton, who took that as an invitation to go further than just touching Calum's legs. Ashton cupped him through his shorts while Calum breathed against his mouth, quietly whispering to him.

“'S good,” he said, keeping his voice low so only Ashton could hear him. “Ash.” He sighed Ashton's name, eyes closed, trying to roll his hips against Ashton's hand. “Keep—” He sighed again, tucking his face into Ashton's neck, where Ashton could feel him smiling, and clearly hear him whimpering. “Like that.”

Ashton kept hand moving against Calum in quick, rough movements, creating friction against the heated skin of his dick. Calum licked a stripe up Ashton's neck and pulled away a bit. In the pale light emanating from the TV screen, Ashton could just make that out that his pupils were blown wide, because of the dimness of the room and what Ashton was doing to him. Calum moved away from Ashton, turning a little so his back was resting against the back of the couch, and lifted his hips, pushing down his shorts and underwear himself. His cock was already half hard, and he slid his hips forward so he was resting just on the edge of the cushion below him. Ashton moved onto his knees in front of Calum without any need for direction or pleading from him.

Despite the rushed nature of nearly all the sex they had, they'd both gotten a fuckload better at handling each other in bed (or...on couch). Ashton wrapped one hand around Calum's cock and stroked him, leaning down to lick over the tip. Calum moaned, and before it could really become audible to anyone not in his immediate vicinity, he slapped his hand over his mouth and tried to swallow it back down. Ashton didn't relent, the bastard—he suckled on the head of Calum's dick as he pushed his thighs apart with his free hand. Calum let his legs be spread open, hand still over his mouth—he was breathing pretty loudly through his nose, but that was better than the alternative of having Luke or Michael walk in and seeing Ashton on his knees going down on him. Ashton pulled off, licking his lip without giving it a second thought—but Calum saw it and whined against his palm. Ashton glanced up at him, smirking; even though he hadn't done it on purpose, he still was aware of the effect he could have on Calum, especially with the smallest actions, especially in situations like this.

The bottle of lube had almost fallen into the cracks in the cushions, but Ashton picked it up and eased the cap open quietly, squeezing some onto his fingers. He tossed the bottle to the side and focused his attention back on Calum, whose legs were still spread wide for him. Using his free hand, Ashton tugged Calum a little further to the edge of the couch, then rubbed one lubed-up finger against his hole. Calum whimpered softly and lowered his hand, biting his lip instead so he could tug Michael's hoodie up over his stomach, mostly so there wouldn't be any danger of getting _anything_ on it—he'd never hear the end of it if a smear of jizz ended up on the stupid thing.

Ashton was circling Calum's hole with his finger, gently pushing the tip against him to try and loosen him up before attempting to finger him for real. Calum had actually been pleasantly surprised with how easy it was to get Ashton to agree to finger him—but then, he had been willing to put a dick in his mouth right from the beginning, so maybe it wasn't too unbelievable.

Calum whined when Ashton's finger entered him, but he managed to keep himself quiet as he pushed in deeper and then withdrew it slowly, stretching him a little each time he moved his finger inside of him. Calum lowered one hand, but forewent touching his cock and instead cupped his balls, gently squeezing them a little as Ashton fingered him. It had taken them both a little bit of time to be totally comfortable with showing exactly what they liked, but they realized shortly after this whole not-quite-boyfriends-but-more-than-friends-with-benefits thing started that they just liked making each other come, and that the route to get there wasn't all that strange when they happened to be doing it with their best friend.

Sliding his free hand up Calum's thigh, Ashton leaned in and let his tongue drag over the underside of Calum's cock. Calum bit his lip and whined, trying to keep his voice low as he did, and squeezed his balls just a little. Ashton flicked his tongue over the head of his dick before settling back on his knees again, pushing Calum's legs even further open.

“More?” he asked, voice barely audible, but Calum could hear him—Calum was singularly focused on the boy in front of him, and could probably have picked out Ashton's _breathing_ from any other noise in the room if he wanted to.

“Yes,” Calum breathed, just as quiet, and Ashton glanced down to watch as he teased entry with his middle finger, nudging the tip in beside his first finger. Calum's breath hitched in his throat, and he lifted his hand from his balls to his cock, stroking it quickly.

Ashton snickered. “In a rush?”

“Shut up,” Calum muttered, but he couldn't help smiling a little too. He rolled his hips a little into Ashton's hand, who took this as his cue to scissor his fingers a little inside Calum, leaning forward again to tease the slit in the head of his cock while Calum stroked himself. Calum groaned, so loud that he slapped his hand over his mouth, and Ashton laughed a little, breath warm on the wet tip of Calum's dick. Calum moaned again softly, leaning his head on the back of the couch, but not once did his hand slow down or stop moving over himself.

Ashton kept his tongue teasing Calum, his fingers curling inside of him, searching for his prostate—he knew once he found it because one of Calum's legs jerked upward. He curled his fingers again, pressing a little harder this time, and Calum's hips jerked up this time, bucking toward the ceiling. Ashton settled back again, but Calum reached for him, threading his fingers into Ashton's hair and pulling him back, angling his cock toward Ashton's mouth.

“You need to suck me off,” he whispered, though it was kind of loud because he wasn't really able to compose himself. “This is Michael's.”

What Calum meant didn't click at first, but then Ashton realized, actually looking at what Calum was wearing, that it was Michael's sweatshirt. Ashton nearly giggled at him. “Yeah,” he said, not stopping what he was doing. “He'd kill you if you came on that.”

The feeling between Calum's legs was intense, and the slick sounds Ashton's fingers made were only turning him on even more. He squirmed as Ashton kept fingering him, curling his fingers up slightly into his prostate over and over. “He would kill me,” Calum repeated weakly. “Fucking— _suck me_ , Ash, _fuck_ —” He rolled his hips, trying to entice Ashton to do what he was asking for, but all it accomplished was Calum teasing himself with Ashton's fingers, and then he was even closer to coming than he was a moment ago. He covered his eyes with his hand, then his mouth, then smoothed his hair back off his forehead, looking down his writhing body at Ashton, who seemed perfectly content to give Calum not only an orgasm but a heart attack.

“Ash,” he tried again, weakly—he'd fucking beg if he had to. Ashton finally took pity on him and raised himself to stand on his knees, leaning over Calum, pressing his fingers in as deep as he could. He curled them up, seeking Calum's prostate, as he took the head of his cock into his mouth. He still wasn't very good at this—plus, it was hard to keep your shit together while trying to suck a dick on a moving bus—so he played it safe and just sucked at the head, tongue dipping into the slit to try and pull the orgasm from him. Calum's hips jerked up into Ashton's hand, his face, and he came after another few moments, when Ashton's fingers and his tongue were in sync and prodded him at the same time—he came into Ashton's mouth, who held his breath and swallowed repeatedly until Calum was finished. He pulled off and licked the tip of his cock clean.

Calum sighed, breathing heavily against the back of the couch, watching as Ashton moved one hand to his thigh and slid his fingers out of Calum, taking care to do it slowly. Calum loosed a small, unintentional whimper at the emptiness he was left with. Ashton let him acclimate for a moment, then slapped his hands down on both of Calum's thighs and used them to stand up, tossing himself beside Calum on the couch. He reached behind him, feeling around for the lube bottle before proffering it to Calum, who didn't take it just yet.

“My turn,” he said, grinning. They were constantly on borrowed time on the bus with Luke and Michael always nearby, and Ashton was always in a hurry—he was convinced that it was only a matter of time before one of their other bandmates woke up having to take a leak in the middle of the night and would discover Calum or Ashton in a... _compromising position_.

Calum huffed a laugh, not quite coming down from his post-orgasm glow period just yet, but he leaned over to kiss Ashton once before standing, pulling his shorts back up. He knelt down between Ashton's legs and pushed them apart, fingers pressing into the sturdy cloth of the sweatpants. “Move closer,” he instructed, and Ashton slid his ass forward on the couch seat while Calum reached up, slipping his hands beneath Ashton's shirt and tugging the pants down by the waistband. If he was surprised to see Ashton without any underwear on, he didn't show it, instead quickly settling himself down low on his knees, bending down so he could nose between Ashton's legs. He wrapped his arms around Ashton's thighs and pulled him forward still, so his legs were practically resting on Calum's shoulders. Ashton braced himself on the couch with his elbows—he knew what Calum was going to do and he was so fucking ready for it.

Calum's tongue slipped between his cheeks, seeking his hole but not finding it just yet. He shifted Ashton closer still to him, backing himself up on his knees when he had to. He moved his face forward again, and Ashton reached down with one hand to hold his erect cock, fingers in a loose circle around it, stroking slowly, softly. He wanted to let Calum's mouth work on him for at least a little bit before getting off. After a few awkward attempts, Ashton finally felt the tip of Calum's tongue press against his hole, and he laughed a little in outright pleasure. Not only did Ashton find that he really fucking liked rimming, but Calum was really fucking good at it, too.

Ashton lifted his hips a little, trying to angle them into a position that was a bit easier for Calum to reach. Calum hummed as Ashton's thighs stiffened, pressing into his ears, but he didn't stop lapping at his hole. He pulled away, resting his cheek against one of Ashton's thighs as he raised a hand between his legs. Using his forefinger, Calum rubbed small circles against Ashton, not quite moving to enter him yet, but getting him used to it. He leaned in again, alternating between his tongue, licking flat wet stripes over Ashton's hole and perineum, and his finger, rubbing firmly but not hard. Ashton let his eyes drift closed, sighing softly as Calum worked his finger inside him, but still let his tongue lick around where Ashton was stretched around his finger.

There was a noise from somewhere behind Calum—Ashton's head snapped up, his hand still around his dick, and Calum looked over his shoulder, his finger still inside Ashton—but no one appeared in the aisle. For a moment, they stayed stock still, like if they didn't move, they were invisible.

But then Ashton squeezed down on Calum's finger and muttered, “Come on,” urging him to keep going—if one of the others was awake, or nearly awake, they really didn't have much time.

“Ok, give me the lube,” Calum whispered, holding his hand out, palm up. Ashton, still holding the bottle, gave it to him. Calum withdrew his finger and squeezed some lube out. He leaned back in and teased Ashton's hole with his tongue before he replaced it with his finger again, pushing first one in, and then the second one. Ashton licked his lip and watched Calum, though he really could only see the top of his head—Calum was still low down, biting at Ashton's thighs, letting his tongue flick against the space between his balls and his asshole, causing Ashton to jerk his hips up every few moments and to jerk his cock off faster. Calum curled his fingers inside of Ashton and dropped his mouth back down, letting his tongue trail over where his fingers disappeared inside of the other boy. Ashton whined and moved his hand over himself faster, stroking his full length repeatedly, pressing his thumb against the slit of his cock each time his hand neared it.

After a few more moments of Ashton jerking himself off, Calum began to work a third finger into Ashton, who moaned quietly at the stretch. Calum fucked him, slow and hard, and Ashton's hips rolled upward on their own. He didn't even need Calum to find his prostate for him to come—the feeling of being so stretched for Calum and the friction on his dick were enough for him. His back arched off the couch as he came all over his front, another moan falling from between his lips as his body relaxed, eyes closed. He smiled a little to himself as Calum wiped his fingers off on Ashton's sweats.

“Dick,” Ashton said, but he wasn't really mad. “I was going to sleep in these.”

“I have a pair you can borrow,” Calum replied, standing up, but tugging Ashton's pants up as far as he could for him.

“Yeah, they're mine,” Ashton said, the smile still on his lips. He lifted his hips to pull his pants up, covering himself. “So, yeah, maybe I _will_ take them back.” Calum took his place beside Ashton on the couch again. They couldn't cuddle, really, but they could get as close as physically possible on the couch and make out before they went to their separate bunks. Their lips had barely touched when—

“You guys are still up?”

They sprang apart, and Calum let out a small yelp, not having expected anyone else to be awake, or at least to make an appearance. They looked at the aisle—a tall, slender form was there, still in shadow, but they knew from the voice it was Luke.

“Oh. Yeah,” Ashton said, because Calum was shaking his head at how frightened Luke had made him and how silly of a reaction that was for him to have had.

“Why?” Luke asked, hesitating in entering the back area of the bus, even though he was fidgeting a little—he probably had to go to the bathroom.

“Why do you think?” Michael yelled from his bunk.

“Well, we're going to sleep now,” Ashton said, though he made a point to push the bottle of lube beneath his thigh to keep it hidden until Luke left the room.

“All right,” Luke said, voice still heavy with sleep—he clearly wasn't thinking too much of the situation. They heard Michael snicker—he clearly was. “'Night,” Luke murmured and shuffled past them into the bathroom. Ashton stood, tossed the bottle of lube to Calum, grabbed his dirty clothes, and hurried to his bunk, where he put everything away as quickly as he could. His bunk was the lower one, opposite Michael, who slept below Luke. Ashton crawled into his bunk, trying to avoid glancing over at Michael's. When he went to tug the curtain closed, though, he made the mistake of looking to his left—and Michael's face was visible in the glow from his cell phone, grinning knowingly at Ashton. Calum hopped up into his bunk, and Ashton heard the sound of a zipper being opened and then closed—stowing away the lube in a safe place where no one could find it. He heard another zipper, and was unsure of what it was—until a swath of black fabric hit Michael right in his face.

“What the fuck, Calum?” he said, as Luke reappeared at the end of the aisle.

“That's your hoodie,” Calum said, and Ashton could hear the smugness in his voice; even though Michael had “caught” them fooling around, Calum and Ashton still had a leg up.

“You had sex in my hoodie?” Michael asked, and he sounded borderline hysterical. “Is there jizz on this?” He made a disgusted noise and they could hear a _whump_ as the hoodie, presumably, was thrown against the far wall of the bunk. “I can't believe—no, you know what? I _can_ believe you would do this, Calum,” he said, as Luke climbed into his bunk, still half-asleep but listening, amused. “But Ashton, I can't believe you would do this to me. I thought we were _friends_.” Ashton was, like, completely certain that Michael was being melodramatic for effect and wasn't actually as upset as he let on, so Ashton didn't try for any damage control.

“Goodnight, Michael,” Ashton said in a singsong voice, pulling the curtain of his bunk closed. Luke and Calum did the same—Ashton could tell by the swishing of the fabric—and Michael made a noise, a cross between a groan and a choking sound, clearly distraught about what happened to his hoodie.

“Next time we stop somewhere, I'm burning this,” he said to no one in particular.

“ _Goodnight_ , Michael,” the three other boys chorused. Michael was still huffing and puffing as Ashton drifted off to sleep.

–

“Do you have any idea how stressful it is, living with Michael?” Luke asked, lifting one hand to adjust his sunglasses, pushing them a little further up his nose, before lowering it back to the handlebar of his shopping cart.

“You haven't even moved in yet,” Ashton answered, and Luke rolled his eyes—way to be deliberately unhelpful.

“Exactly. It's already overwhelming.”

“Do we need one of these?” Calum interjected, holding up a coffee pot—just the glass carafe, not even the actual coffee maker.

“No,” Ashton replied—they could get a Keurig, or something. Better yet, he could just get a kettle and force Calum to begin drinking tea. Perfect. He turned back to Luke. “You agreed, Luke. You signed the lease. It's too late.” He was amused more than anything else.

Calum put the coffee pot back and wandered away from the shopping cart that currently held a bunch of random shit for their apartment: a paper towel holder, some sheets for a king size bed (“Because that way,” Calum had reasoned, “it won't matter what size mattress we have. They'll fit no matter what!”), a sectioned tray to hold cutlery in a drawer (but no cutlery), and one frying pan. Luke and Michael's cart wasn't faring much better (there was one lone scented candle and a shower curtain).

“I could sleep on your couch,” Luke suggested, looking around the aisle they were standing in—none of them had seen Michael for several minutes, which suggested something awful was about to happen.

“We've got a futon, actually,” Ashton said, and Luke scowled at him. _Deliberately. Unhelpful._

“He'll—” Luke began, but Ashton interrupted him.

“He'll be a good roommate. I don't know what you're so worried about.” Ashton turned toward a shelf to check out the cost of the sets of plates—and blanched at the price. “Don't they have those plates that are, like, plastic here?” he asked. Luke shrugged, and Ashton sighed, turning back to him. “It's Michael. He's just...excitable. But you'll be fine. Besides, he's going to have to deal with you being the messiest person alive,” Ashton said as Calum returned holding a small, grey garbage pail for them to keep in the kitchen. He nodded at Calum, who dropped it into the cart with a _clang_.

“Yeah,” Luke conceded, “but—”

“No but,” Ashton said, watching Calum was he rounded the corner into the next aisle. “Luke, if you really thought Michael would be such a terrible roommate, why would you agree to get a place with him at all?”

“I can see it now: It's 3 in the morning, I'm asleep. Out of nowhere my door bangs open and Michael shoots me with a marshmallow gun,” Luke said, frowning—they'd seen the plastic guns when they walked in and Michael had crowed with joy, grabbing one and leaving them in search of marshmallows, or at least something small enough that he could put in the gun to shoot at them in the store. He hadn't been seen since. It definitely did not bode well.

“That will probably happen,” Ashton said. He decided to leave the plates behind and followed Calum to the next aisle, where he was holding up two soap dispensers, comparing them. “We don't need one of those, Calum.” He looked back for Luke, who had followed along, and added, “Learn to lock your door. Or get your own marshmallow gun and keep it under your pillow.”

Luke snickered—and Ashton was glad. It was the first time he'd seen Luke smile since they signed their leases earlier, before heading out to do some shopping for their new apartments. They would be moving in later that afternoon and Ashton had insisted that they all be prepared instead of realizing just what they didn't have late at night when everything was closed.

Luke really did want to live with Michael—they got along well when it was just the two of them and Michael didn't feel the need to give Luke shit. It was just a little nerve-wracking. The only people he'd ever lived with were his family, and as the baby of said family, he was used to teasing (from his brothers) and coddling (from his mother). Within his band, he still got the teasing and coddling (courtesy of Michael and Ashton respectively), but Ashton was going to be living two floors below them, and Luke would be a walking target.

Unless...Ashton was right and Luke got the jump on Michael. Show him who was boss. He grinned, and Ashton grinned in response, even though Luke was sure that if Ashton knew that he was planning to fuck with Michael he might not be entirely on board. He'd figure something out—but for now, the marshmallow gun idea was the best he had. “I'll be back,” Luke said, turning and heading back toward the main doors of the store with his cart.

Ashton had lost track of where Calum was; fortunately, they were both taller than all the shelves in this area, so a quick scan showed him that Calum was over by the towels now. Ashton wheeled the cart toward him, nudging him in the ass with the front of it. Calum looked back, expression a little annoyed, but smiled when he saw it was just Ashton.

“Hey,” he greeted Ash.

“Hey,” Ashton said in return. “So, have you decided on a color scheme?” he asked, amusement audible in his voice. “Maybe we should pick a theme for the bathroom. Like...the beach. Or Michael's hair.”

“Or maybe just 'affordable,'” Calum suggested, smirking. “Whatever color you want works for me.”

“Blue? Or green,” Ashton said, looking over the array of towels on display. Calum chose a few dark blue ones, handing them to Ashton to put in the cart.

“And a bunch of those,” Ashton said, pointing to the washcloths. Calum looked where he was pointing and grabbed the whole stack of salmon-pink cloths. He grinned at Ashton and dumped them in the cart. Ashton laughed. “Michael's hair it is, then.”

Calum laughed and looked down into the cart. “We're forgetting stuff.”

“Yeah,” Ashton said, looking down as well, but shrugging. “I mean, we have towels, and we have sheets.” He pointed. “And a garbage pail. What else do we need?”

“ _Need_ , probably nothing else. But _want_...” he looked around them, gesturing widely. “I'll take the whole store.”

“The whole store,” Ashton repeated, incredulously. Calum nodded, the beginnings of a smirk pulling on the corners of his mouth. Ashton looked around, then picked up a random item from the shelf nearest them—it looked like a soapdish but twice as long. “What do you need with a—” he checked the label on the bottom, reading its name off the price tag “—guest towel tray?”

“Obviously to put guest towels on,” Calum replied, and Ashton hit him on the arm with it before putting it back. “All right, all right. Just bed and bath. No need to go beyond.” He giggled at his own joke, and Ashton huffed a laugh, equally amused.

“Only other thing I can think of is plates and cups, and shit like that,” Ashton said, turning the cart and maneuvering it around Calum. “But we can just use paper ones for now.”

“It really doesn't matter to me,” Calum said after a moment, sounding more serious than before. Ashton had turned to down the main aisle and toward the décor sections of the store. “I think it'll be cool just to live together.”

Ashton paused—Calum wasn't really the type to say anything like that, or anything at all, so Ashton knew that he meant it for real. He grinned and looked over his shoulder at Calum, who was looking at him but wasn't quite meeting his eyes.

“Me too,” Ashton said. Calum lifted his eyes to Ashton's, who held his gaze for a moment before turning around. “Do we need throw pillows?”

Calum laughed. “Need? No. But want?”

–

At least Ashton had made sure that Luke and Michael actually bought items they needed, otherwise they'd have had literally _nothing_ useful for a new place.

They had carried their seemingly endless number of bags to the car, having to pile them into the trunk and back seat. It didn't leave much room for them—Calum was in the back seat, squeezed against the door of the car and a bag containing the bedspread that Michael had chosen (surprisingly, there was nary a Pikachu to be seen on it). Every time he tried to find a more comfortable position (his arm was resting on top of the crinkly plastic), it resisted, the bag rustled, and Calum sighed in annoyance. How the fuck had he let himself be talked into sitting in the back? His boyf— _Ashton_ was driving.

Luke sat on top of Michael in the passenger seat of the car (“This is really stupid,” Ashton had admonished them, frowning as Michael stretched the seatbelt around both of them and clicked it into place. “And that doesn't make it safe!”), with Luke's arms around Michael's shoulders like they were posing for the cover of a romance novel. Ashton was pretty sure he didn't breathe easily until he'd parked in his designated spot, shutting the car off and stowing the keys in his pocket. This band was going to be the death of him.

Calum opened the back door and spilled out onto the pavement, stretching out his arms and legs just because he could.

“Everyone grab their own crap,” Ashton said, indiscriminately pulling bags out of the back seat of the car and piling them all next to each other. He rounded the back of the car and unlocked the trunk, with Calum walking up after another couple of moments to help him unload the rest of the bags. Ashton slammed the trunk shut after it was empty. Finally, Michael and Luke had stepped out of the car, walking back toward them—Ashton had seen them struggling with the seatbelt for a minute through the rear window.

“We'll have to make more than one trip,” Michael observed. He scanned the bags quickly. “Where's my marshmallow gun?”

“You don't need it right now, mate,” Ashton said, picking up the bag holding his bedding set and putting it in his arms instead. “Go on, you and Calum head up, then we'll switch.”

Michael, pretending to struggle under the weight of what he was holding, grabbed another couple bags and walked away with Calum, the two of them rounding the corner and heading inside the building.

“Still have cold feet?” Ashton asked Luke, smirking.

Luke laughed a little, quietly. “No. It's just...this is a big step. Moving here.”

Ashton nodded in response—he wasn't quite as nervous for the same reason as Luke. His mother and siblings hadn't been happy when he'd told them that he, and the rest of the band, were getting places in California, which he thought was understandable. Of course it was. He wasn't entirely happy about it either—he missed his family more than he could say.

But on the other hand, the chance to live with Calum was kind of exciting. Their relationship, while much more than it had been the first time they'd clumsily jerked each other off, was still mostly undefined. While he might never say it out loud, Ashton was beginning to get used to the idea of thinking of Calum as his “boyfriend”—or at least as more than just a fuckbuddy. Living together seemed to be the next step in their relationship—as friends and also as whatever else they were.

“It is,” Ashton said, after a few seconds' introspection. “We'll be all right.”

He looked over at Luke and they both grinned, waiting for Calum and Michael to come back downstairs.

–

“We forgot curtains,” Calum said. The apartment they were renting had two bedrooms, one bath, and a small kitchen combined with a sitting area. Every single window was bare, save for the one in the kitchen that had horizontal blinds already installed.

Ashton was struggling with setting up the shower curtain, but he pulled it out into the short hallway with him, still trying to loop it onto the hooks. He wrinkled his nose at the smell of the new plastic. “What?”

“Curtains,” Calum said from one of the bedrooms. They hadn't necessarily been _planning_ on sharing or anything, it was just that when Michael and Luke were lamenting that they had no spare room for anything fun, Calum and Ashton realized that they could use the second bedroom for music shit. “We don't have any.”

“Knew we forgot something,” Ashton said, growing increasingly frustrated with the stupid fucking shower curtain. He tossed it back into the bathroom—he'd let Calum do it—and walked into the bedroom. Calum had made the bed (their bed? Ashton didn't want to go that far) with the sheets they'd gotten. The mattress wasn't a king—it was a full, so the sheets were hilariously pooled around the sides of it. “Looks great,” Ashton commented, laughing.

Calum turned to him, grinning. “The sheets are too big.” 

Ashton just laughed more, pushing his hair back off his forehead. “Gee, I wonder how that happened? Hey—can you go fix the shower curtain? It's—it isn't cooperating with me.”

“Sure,” Calum agreed, squeezing past Ashton in the doorway. They were on the sixth floor of their apartment building, so it wasn't as though they had to worry about anyone being able to see in other than tenants living in the neighboring building. Hopefully they had no idea who 5 Seconds of Summer were and wouldn't think anything of the two guys sleeping in the same room.

The plastic of the shower curtain was rustling, Ashton could hear, but instead of following Calum, he tried to fix the sheets so at least they weren't draped on the floor. The apartment had come “partially furnished,” but really, all that had been left was a mattress the previous occupant hadn't want to pay to move and a shitty old pea-green sofa that Michael and Luke had staked claim to, which Ashton had allowed because he and Calum had already gotten their futon.

He wandered instead into their music room, the first thing they'd set up. It was laughably sparse. Ashton wouldn't have ever considered setting up his drum kit in the apartment—he didn't want to get them evicted—but his cajón was there, along with a cheap acoustic guitar, laying flat on its back. Calum's basses were mostly stored away in cases, but one was out on a stand.

“Hey,” Calum said, and Ashton tensed—Calum had startled him. Ashton turned and nodded to him, leaning against the doorjamb.

“Want to play something?” Calum asked, but Ashton shook his head.

“Nah, just looking. Michael and Luke will want to come up here all the time and play,” he said, turning back to look at the instruments again.

Calum nodded. “Probably.” He glanced into the room, a faint smile on his face, but then returned his gaze to Ashton. With Michael and Luke around, not to mention fans always on the watch, he could never look at Ashton as closely as he'd like, for fear of merciless mocking by Michael or fans getting apparent confirmation of something between the two of them that they already thought was there.

After a few moments of silence, Ashton turned back to face Calum; he swore he could feel his eyes on him. Calum was still looking at him; he'd been studying the angle of his nose and the curve of his jawline, but when Ashton looked at him, he met his eyes. Ashton was smiling.

“Let's go,” Calum said, and Ashton was actually about to ask “Where?” before he realized that Calum was now looking at his lips. “I made the bed for a reason,” Calum continued, snickering a little. He turned and crossed the hall, moving into the bedroom they'd actually be using.

Ashton followed him. The sun was beginning to dip down below the rooftops of other buildings, limiting the light being let into the room. It was unintentional, but Calum probably couldn't have picked a better time than right now.

They both undressed quietly, taking their time—there was no need to rush anymore, now that they were behind a locked door, just the two of them unless they chose to let someone else in. The lube and a box of condoms were tucked away in the rickety, second-hand bedside table on the side of the bed Ashton was currently on. He didn't want to make any assumptions, but he was still glad that they'd stowed them there, just in case. Calum tossed his clothes into the corner.

Ashton did the same, but spoke. “We should get a clothes hamper.”

“That's what you're thinking about right now?” Calum asked. “My dick is right here and you're just thinking about the apartment.”

“I'm ignoring you and making a mental note to get a hamper,” Ashton said, pulling the top sheet out of the way and climbing into the bed. Calum did the same, but didn't move over as quickly as Ashton thought he would. He paused, then asked, “You all right?”

Calum nodded, not meeting Ashton's eyes just yet. “Yeah. Yeah. I just thought, maybe...” he trailed off, but Ashton felt completely certain that he knew what Calum was thinking as soon as Calum did look up at him.

“You want to?” Ashton asked, voice a little higher than he would have liked.

“Yeah,” Calum said again.

“For real?”

“ _Yes_.” Calum's voice has a little laughter to it now. It was really amazing the lengths the two of them would go to to avoid saying certain things.

“You sure?”

And then there was Ashton, always the cautious one, so Calum just said it. “Yes. I want you to fuck me. I'm sure.”

He didn't intend for it to shock Ashton into silence, surprising him enough that Calum had outright spoken the words, but after a moment, he nodded, leaning over to Calum and kissing him, pulling Calum's bare body against his. “All right,” Ashton muttered against his lips as they kissed, Calum's fingertips trailing over Ashton's shoulders and arms. “I'll fuck you.”

Calum smiled a little against his mouth—now that they both had said it, there was nothing to be apprehensive about anymore. Calum tried to grind his hips against Ashton's as they laid together under the sheet, and Ashton let him, their cocks rubbing together. Calum parted his lips against Ashton's, tongues moving together as Ashton felt Calum's hard cock against his thigh. He licked at Calum's lower lip before pulling away a little, reaching one hand between them to take hold of Calum, stroking him slowly.

“How do you want to do it?” he whispered. He knew the logistics of it, of how two guys had sex, but he wasn't sure exactly how Calum wanted to. Calum rolled onto his back, letting Ashton keep moving his hand over him as he sighed a little, taking short, quick breaths. He closed his eyes, and Ashton almost asked again, thinking maybe Calum didn't hear him, before the other boy spoke.

“Hands and knees. I think that's easiest,” he answered the question in just as quiet a voice. Ashton nodded, but didn't stop his hand moving until Calum reached down and took hold of his wrist, tugging his hand gently away.

Calum sat up, moving onto his knees, and situating himself on top of the bedsheet. While he was finding the most comfortable position, Ashton turned away and opened the drawer, its hardware squeaking a little as he did. He pulled out the bottle of lube and the box of condoms, tearing it open and removing one from the pack. He took a breath to steel himself, and then looked back around at Calum and froze.

He was on all fours, but really, he was just resting on his knees. His ass was up in the air; Calum was completely uninhibited, because he was resting one shoulder against the bed, and his other arm was stretched over his back, his middle finger already rubbing circles against his hole. Ashton forgot how to breathe as he watched Calum tease himself, his cock giving a feeble twitch as he pushed against his hole. Ashton met his eyes and Calum just grinned at him, though it was half-hearted, distracted.

Ashton pushed himself up onto his knees, walking on them over behind Calum. Once Ashton was back there, he moved his hand to his ass cheek, holding himself open for Ashton even though the angle and position he was in was already doing that pretty well. Ashton had never seen Calum from this exact vantage point before, but he wasted no time in opening the lube and slicking up his fingers, keeping the bottle nearby in case he needed more.

“Ready?” he asked, but his mouth was so dry it was nearly inaudible. He licked his lips and tried again, repeating the question.

“Yeah,” Calum answered, keeping his eyes locked onto Ashton even though it couldn't be comfortable for him in that position. Ashton just nodded, moving his hand to Calum's ass opposite his hand, pulling him apart as he used his forefinger to rub against his hole. Calum sighed softly, already pushing back a little against Ashton's hand.

“Wait,” Ashton said softly. “Don't rush it.” The “We don't have to rush it anymore” was unspoken but implied, and Calum just made a small noise of assent in his throat, which grew a little louder when Ashton began to actively try to have his finger enter Calum. He pressed the slick tip against him, licking his lip in concentration until he felt Calum open up around him. He fucked him slowly with just one finger for a minute, waiting until he felt Calum was relaxed and loose enough for a second one. At the moment Ashton teased entry with his middle finger, Calum whined for more. Ashton laughed a little, but Calum wasn't as amused.

“More, Ash,” he breathed, shifting his knees further apart and pushing back a little into Ashton's hand, so he would finally move two fingers inside of him. Instead of arguing—why the hell would he even argue? They'd not had a chance to fuck for real since this whole thing between them started—he just scissored his two fingers inside Calum, fucking him and curling his fingers to brush against Calum's prostate. Calum's back arched when Ashton found it; he continued fucking him, and while he didn't nudge his prostate each time, he could tell Calum desperately wanted him to: He whined every time Ashton's fingers moved out of him without pressing against it.

“I should get to three, right?” Ashton asked after Calum was practically pushing back against his hand with each thrust forward.

“Yes,” Calum said, and even though Ashton wasn't sure if Calum was actually answering his question or just saying it to get Ashton to give him more, he pulled his two fingers most of the way out of Calum, then added a third—it slipped inside of him easily, slick as he was with lube. Calum's free hand curled into the sheets below him, mostly so he wouldn't take hold of his dick and jerk himself off until he came all over the sheets. He wanted _this_ , he wanted to feel full, wanted Ashton's cock inside him as he came.

“Tell me when—” Ashton said, but didn't finish the sentence—Calum would know better than he would when he was ready to move further. Calum nodded, his hair making whispers against the pillowcase, but he didn't tell Ashton to go on just yet. Ashton worked his fingers in and out of Calum, pressing against his prostate with a more regular rhythm, and finally Calum squeezed down on his fingers.

“Stop—stop, I'm ready, I think,” Calum said. Ashton held his breath for a moment as he gingerly pulled his fingers out of Calum. He bit his lip in concentration as he opened the condom wrapper—not as easy as it should have been, slippery as his fingers were with lube, but he finally got it and rolled it on himself. He raised up onto his knees before remembering he should use more lube, so he fumbled for it and slathered a layer onto his cock, dropping the bottle beside him. He stood on his knees again, moving closer to Calum; he looked down at his body, at Calum's below him, and moved his hands to Calum's hips. He squeezed them for a moment—it was the closest he could get to a hug, or something like it anyway, a preparatory gesture for what they were about to do.

“Ready?” Ashton asked.

“Ready,” Calum answered, turning his upper half just a little to more easily meet Ashton's eyes. He gave him a lustful smirk, which Ashton returned (though it was more of a genuine smile) before moving one hand to hold his cock steady as he pressed the head against Calum's hole.

He had stretched him, he _knew_ he did, but there was a moment where Ashton swore that they wouldn't be able to do this, because it just wouldn't go in—but then, finally, the head moved shallowly inside Calum. He let out a loud groan as Ashton moved into him, slowly.

“Fuck,” Ashton murmured, and Calum echoed the sentiment, though just a bit louder.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he moaned, trying to keep eye contact with Ashton, but he couldn't. He pressed his face into the pillow, moaning as Ashton pushed further into him. It took him a while to bottom out—but when he did, Calum squeezed down on him again and they both moaned in unison. It was warm and tight, which Ashton was used to from the girls he'd slept with—but while it was similar, it was still extraordinarily different. Ashton replaced his hands on Calum's hips, holding them tight; he rolled his hips, pulling out about halfway before moving back in, and Calum whined softly.

“Ash,” he breathed, leaning on one arm and reaching out with the other to cover one of Ashton's hands with his own. “Just—keep doing that,” he said. Slow seemed the best option for right now, at least for Calum, but Ashton wasn't fucking complaining—it felt _amazing_. He rolled his hips again, biting his lip to keep from making any loud noises—an unfortunate habit left over from their tour bus trysts.

Calum, however, didn't have the same problem—he was vocal: moaning, whining, whimpering for more. He still hadn't touched his cock—honestly, he didn't even know if he would have to, especially after he commanded “Faster,” and Ashton listened, moving in and out of him a bit quicker. His cock was stretching him out more, deeper, than fingers ever did, but Calum loved it; he would beg for it if Ashton decided to stop. He felt like he'd been on edge since Ashton had used three fingers on him. His thighs were trembling as Ashton fucked into him, hands still gripping his hips, fingers digging into his skin.

Ashton still had his lip between his teeth, but he whimpered when Calum squeezed down on his hand and his cock at the same time. Ashton leaned closer over Calum, his front nearly touching his back and changing the angle at which he was inside of him. He groaned; it just made Calum feel tighter around him.

At the feeling of Ashton's warm breath on his back, Calum finally lowered his hand to tug at his cock—he was hard as fuck, his abdomen poised to uncoil any second. Ashton's hips had begun stuttering in their rhythm behind him—the new angle was apparently doing wonders for him—so Calum didn't hold anything back. He jerked himself off, quickly, quicker than Ashton was moving his hips, and his entire body tensed up as he came, thick white lines of come landing on the new sheets below him. Ashton didn't stop moving, though he slowed down and rocked his hips against Calum when he came too, Calum's body tight around him bringing him to orgasm. His breath puffed out uselessly against Calum's back, and Ashton actually rested his forehead against Calum's shoulderblade for a moment before he caught his breath, pulling himself upright and slowly away from Calum, who groaned softly as Ashton moved out of his body.

Ashton tied off the condom, but they had nowhere to put it—so he muttered “Be right back,” and scampered to the kitchen to toss it in their garbage pail there. He hurried back to the bedroom where Calum was lying on his side, curled up, eyes closed, a smile on his face. Ashton stood in the door for a moment, taking in the sight of Calum, before he padded silently across the room and laid on the bed as well, moving one arm over Calum's side, snuggling up to him.

–

In the flood of light from the streetlamps outside, pouring yellow-orange in through the windows they hadn't gotten curtains for yet, Calum glanced over at Ashton, taking in the reflection off the thin sheen of sweat on his chest. He groped for his hand and found it, untangling it from the bedsheets. Ashton looked over and let Calum lace their fingers together.

“Ashton Irwin,” Calum began, and Ashton smiled a little.

“Calum Hood,” he replied.

“Would you do me the honor—”

He cut Calum off right there. “I'm already in your band and we're already living together.”

“Will you let me finish?”

Ashton sighed and rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. He nodded. “Go on.”

“Would you do me the honor,” he said, turning to look at Ashton, hair mussed from the pillow he was reclining on, “of getting a dog with me?”

Ashton opened his mouth, but Calum interrupted him: “Please?”

Ashton snickered. “Yeah, all right.”


	4. (Epilogue)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Besides, don't release me until it's over_

“Will you hurry up?” Calum whined, impatient. He was standing at the door of their bedroom, already ready to go out, black jean jacket matching his pants perfectly, with one of Ashton's tank tops beneath it. The sunglasses adorning his face were Ashton's too. 

In fact, the one thing Ashton hated about living with Calum was how he lacked any sense of being proprietary—he fully subscribed to the notion that what was Ashton's was his and vice versa. Ashton, though, tended not to take without asking, whereas Calum would end up with half of Ashton's things stuffed in with his laundry, and when Ashton had nothing to wear, would just shrug and say he didn't know how they'd gotten there in the first place. ( _Total_ lie. He knew.)

“It's not like they're going anywhere, Calum,” Ashton answered, rolling over and pushing his face into his pillow. One of his bare legs was sticking out from the sheet. He made an awkward kicking motion so he was fully covered again.

“No, no,” Calum said, entering the room and pulling the sheet completely off of Ashton. “Get up, get in the shower, we have to go.”

“And I'm telling you, they can wait for half an hour,” Ashton answered, but he sat up, yawning and running a hand through his hair to push it off his face.

“Maybe I can't,” Calum replied, and when Ashton glanced up at him, he put on his absolute best pout. Ashton laughed.

“Fine. Showering now.” Ashton padded past Calum, crossed the hall and slipped into the bathroom, flicking the light on as he shut the door behind him.

Calum listened to the water run in the sink for a couple minutes, and then the shower turned on—the loud _clunk_ of the pipe was always audible from literally anywhere in the apartment. Calum wandered out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, then went from the kitchen to the living room. He was just nervous—and excited, so maybe antsy was the best term for how he was feeling. He tried to sit down but his legs didn't seem to want to rest. He stood back up and walked down the hall to see if Ashton had turned the shower off yet. He hadn't. Calum let out a frustrated groan and turned back around.

He was just deciding that he had half a mind to leave Ashton there and go by himself when he heard the bathroom door creak open and Ashton's footsteps move from the tiled floor, to the hardwood, to the carpet of their room. Calum estimated that he would take approximately seven minutes to get dressed. This calculation was based on the number of Ashton's shirts that were currently in with Calum's dirty clothes waiting to be washed.

Ashton emerged from the hall a few minutes later, wearing a t-shirt underneath one of Calum's plaid shirts. “Mind if I wear this?” Ashton asked, already rolling the sleeves up. Calum didn't mind—but even if he did, he was ready to leave like, last week, so he just shook his head.

“No. Let's go,” he nearly demanded of Ashton, leading him to the door that opened into the hall of their apartment building.

“Can I put shoes on first, or do you think they'll let me in just in socks?”

Calum sighed heavily, impatient, then opened the door to the small closet where they kept their shoes and jackets, grabbed Ashton's boots, and proffered them to him. Ashton took them and walked back to the couch.

“You don't have to get so worked up, Cal,” Ashton said, trying to keep his voice calm, even though he wasn't really appreciating being hurried so much. “They'll be there no matter what time we show up.”

Calum didn't reply; he just bounced on the balls of his feet as Ash put his boots on and laced them up. Calum was already at the door by the time he stood up, and out in the hall by the time Ashton had reached him.

Ashton locked the door behind them, stowing his keys in his pocket as he joined Calum by the elevator. They stood together, side-by-side, and Ashton let his index and middle fingertips brush against the back of Calum's hand as they waited for the doors in front of them to slide open. Calum looked over at Ashton and finally smiled at him, carefree.

“I don't blame you for being excited,” Ashton said as the elevator dinged and the doors opened. He and Calum stepped apart to make way for one of their neighbors, an elderly man who was carrying a plastic bag with some groceries and a newspaper in it. They entered the elevator as he walked past them, and Ashton pressed the button for the ground floor.

“I think I'm more than excited,” Calum said, laughing a little—nothing was funny, but he was anxious.

“I think I would have to agree,” Ashton said, also laughing—though more at how Calum was practically vibrating in anticipation than with nerves of his own.

“Do you think we'll find a good one?” Calum asked, and Ashton shrugged, crossing his arms for a moment.

“Probably,” he said, then nodded. “I mean, I don't see why we wouldn't.”

“By the time we get there all the good ones will be gone,” Calum said, tone accusatory.

“How many people do you think go in and adopt a dog every day?”

“Probably a lot,” Calum answered, rolling his eyes. “I would go in every day if I could.”

“Good thing you can't,” came Ashton's retort, and Calum looked at him with mock offense, mouth open and hand on his chest. “Stop it,” Ashton said, giggling a little.

“Are you sure we can't get more than one?” Calum asked.

“Positive,” Ashton said, as the elevator reached the ground floor and they exited the building.

“How positive?”

Ashton led Calum outside to his car. “Like, completely. If I had to give you a percentage, it'd be one hundred.” He unlocked Calum's door, then walked around the hood to unlock the driver's side door.

Calum huffed. “Not fair.”

“We can't bring more than one dog on tour, Calum. That wouldn't be fair,” he said, and he honestly felt a little bad. Their landlord was totally cool with pets, as long as they kept quiet and clean, but bringing even one animal on tour with a band was kind of pushing it.

Calum just huffed again and looked out the window. “We'll have to pick a good one, then.”

“We will,” Ashton said, starting the car and pulling out of the parking lot. They had checked out a few nearby animal shelters, but had ended up visiting one more than the others. There was this dog there that had taken to Calum the first time they'd visited—they couldn't tell exactly what breed of dog she was, but she was fluffy, which seemed to be one of the only criteria Calum cared about.

By the time they pulled into the lot for the shelter, Ashton could tell how excited Calum was. “Do you think she's still here?” Ashton snickered. All pretense was forgotten when Calum would get to pet a dog.

“I'm sure she is,” Ashton said, opening the door to the car and leading Calum up to the door. Ashton could tell Calum was trying to play it cool when they walked in, but when the employee on duty, Naomi, saw who it was, she grinned at them.

“Back again?” she asked, shaking her head, amused—this was the third time they'd come in in the last month alone. “She'll be happy to see you. Come on.”

Naomi led them back into the area where the dogs were kept. Most of the animals began barking for attention, leaping up on the kennel doors, but Calum knew exactly where he was going. The dog he was looking for was barking along with the rest of them, but her tail—hell, practically her entire back half was wagging as the group walked over to her.

“Want me to take her out for you?” Naomi asked.

Calum smiled. “Yeah.” He leaned closer to the dog, sticking his hand up to the chainlink. She immediately sniffed at him, then tried to lick his hand through the door. Ashton watched, smiling, as Calum talked to the dog, greeting her and saying he missed her, while Naomi got a leash and collar to put around the dog's neck while she was out of her enclosure.

The door was opened, the collar slipped onto the dog, and Naomi handed the leash to Calum before returning to the front desk. Calum just sat right on the floor to play with the dog—there was nothing else he needed. He asked for her paw, and when she gave it to him, he grinned up at Ashton.

“I love this dog,” Calum said, wrapping his arms around the dog's neck, hugging her. She made a low, half-barking noise, tail wagging like crazy.

Ashton smiled, amused. “I love her too, Calum.”

“And I love you,” Calum said, a split-second decision—those seemed to have worked well for him in the past. He pulled away from the dog, rubbing her head, her ears flopping back and forth as he did, then looked up at Ashton.

Ashton's mouth had opened slightly of its own accord in surprise—but then his expression softened, a smile curving his lips. “I love you back.”

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: [maybeillfindyouhere](http://maybeillfindyouhere.tumblr.com/) • Come say hi!
> 
> _Title and lyrics from "Colly Strings" by Manchester Orchestra._


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